


Welkin in the Wizarding World

by WelkinCooper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Banter, Bickering, Childbirth, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Dark Magic, Devotion, Dirty Talk, Drama, Dreams, Duelling, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Face Slapping, Family Secrets, Gangbang, Happy Ending, Hogwarts, Humor, Jealousy, Kissing, Library Sex, Love, Marriage, Oral Sex, Passion, Potions, Public Sex, Quidditch, Rescue, Roleplay, Romance, Rough Sex, Singing, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 69
Words: 240,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelkinCooper/pseuds/WelkinCooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape finally meets the woman he can’t intimidate, and this time it’s “Forever and Always.”  Albus Dumbledore maneuvers the two together hoping for the best, and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unwelcome Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Some chapters contain lemons, and some don't. It's a romance and a sex romp between two not so perfect people who make a perfect couple.

* * *

Lying on her back on the wet grass, Welkin woke to a cold, relentless downpouring of rain, and a dull, aching throb in her head. 

The last thing she remembered was walking along the Scottish moors in the afternoon sun, behaving like the typical American tourist. She had just paused to retrieve her digital camera from her backpack when she felt a single sharp bolt of pain shoot through her head and a feeling like suddenly having her feet jerked out from under her. Her chest had constricted painfully and she gasped for breath before everything went dark. 

Now, crawling and stumbling her way into a groggy standing position on the slippery grass, she tried to get her bearings in the dark. Night had apparently fallen while she was unconscious. 

Blinking against the rain which was continuously streaming down the wet strands of her auburn hair and into her eyes, she stumbled in a circle until she glimpsed a dim, shimmering light not too far in the distance. Slowly she forced her rebellious leg muscles to move in that direction.

* * *

Argus Filch, caretaker at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was making his nightly rounds, accompanied by his malevolent looking feline, Mrs. Norris. He was bemoaning the fact that thus far tonight he had been unable to catch any of the students where they shouldn’t be. It looked to be a boring and uneventful evening for him, until he suddenly heard a pounding sound echoing down the front hall. 

Proceeding more eagerly toward the sound, with a nasty grin of anticipation on his face, he discovered that someone was indeed at the front door, although the pounding appeared to be getting weaker. No doubt it was one of the students breaking curfew, he thought with twisted satisfaction.

Reaching the massive door, Filch eagerly pulled it open, prepared to apprehend the rule breaker in triumph. A wet, muddy, bedraggled woman fell into the hallway onto her knees. 

Breathing hard, Welkin slowly raised her aching head and saw the stringy-haired character standing there, looking for all the world like something out of the _Rocky Horror Picture Show_. Coming down the hallway she thought she saw two other men, one with a long, white beard and the other with long, dark hair, dressed in equally long, dark robes. 

“Castle Frank-N-Furter I presume...” she managed to say to Filch in a raspy voice before collapsing on the floor in a wet heap.

* * *

When Welkin came to the second time, she found herself in a small, dark room with the look of a dungeon and rows of glass containers with some rather alarming looking floating contents. 

She realized slowly that her muddy clothes and undergarments were gone, replaced by a silver-grey robe of some very soft but unfamiliar material, and she was lying on a low, not terribly comfortable couch. She sat up slowly and groaned as her head throbbed anew.

“Drink this,” a masculine, silky yet severe sounding voice commanded, making her nearly jump out of her newly dried skin. 

She turned to face the owner of the voice, and recognized the man from the hallway with the long, dark hair. 

His voluminous robes now cast to the side over a dark leather chair, he was dressed in a distinctly Victorian looking manner, in a long tunic style jacket with many buttons up the front. A large hooked nose dominated the rest of the features in his sallow complexioned face; except for his cold, black eyes, glittering at her like a snake’s as he stepped forward and offered an ornate cup to her. 

“It will revive you and then we can begin,” he said crisply.

“Begin _what?_ ” she demanded, shrinking away from him, and was immediately struck with a new thought. “How did I get undressed? Did you undress me while I was unconscious, you pervert? And now you’re trying to drug me!” she blurted out.

“I had no idea you preferred your previous disgustingly bedraggled condition. My apologies for returning you to at least a semblance of acceptable appearance,” he said snidely. “In the future I will remember that you apparently prefer to wallow in filth. As to my attempting to drug you, this is merely a potion that will make you more comfortable physically, before I begin my inquiries into the nature of your unexpected arrival here.”

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it,” Welkin sniffed. “Just give me the damn potion. I need a drink anyway.” She was fairly certain that she wasn’t going to like this guy’s attitude. He was definitely not a gentleman.

She took the cup and downed it like downing a shot. The taste was horrendous, but almost immediately she started to feel a tingling, from her bare toes to the top of her head, which, within 30 seconds, had stopped its annoying throbbing.

“Wow! What’s in that?” she wondered aloud.

“You wouldn’t really care to know,” Professor Snape assured her with a crooked half-smile. He abruptly pulled her to her feet and re-deposited her in the other leather chair. 

“Now...shall we begin?” he asked. 

She gripped the arms of the chair nervously as he walked around it to stand to the back of her, so that she couldn’t see him.

“Tell me exactly how is it that you happened to stumble upon us tonight? Do not attempt to lie to me,” he drawled menacingly. “I will know it, I assure you, and the consequences might not be so pleasant.”

* * *


	2. You Can't Go Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore makes Welkin an offer she can't refuse. Unfortunately, it also involves that infuriating Potions Master, Severus Snape.

* * *

From the moment Welkin Cooper arrived unexpectedly on their doorstep, Snape suspected that she was up to no good. Muggles generally were, in his experience, and her arrival here was suspicious to Dumbledore as well, who was concerned that the Muggles might have somehow become aware of Hogwarts and finally devised a method of penetrating the defenses that shielded the Wizarding World from theirs. 

Dumbledore wanted to know if she was some sort of advance spy or an innocent accidental interloper. Albus had asked him to handle the questioning, then use an Obliviate Charm to wipe her memory and return her to the Muggle world.

The Legilimency which Snape subjected Miss Cooper to for the next hour in his office in the Dungeon Potions Lab was the most efficient and expeditious way of gathering the requested information. The fact that it distressed and humiliated Welkin was of no concern whatsoever to Snape. In fact, he rather enjoyed her discomfort as he dragged her repeatedly back to the chair from whatever corner of the office she fled to, easily deflecting with his wand the various objects she threw at him. The things she yelled at him each time he retrieved her became progressively more vivid and descriptively obscene as she grew more furious with him. She threatened to do things to his private parts that would have been truly uncomfortable and distressing, if she had magical skills and had actually been able to accomplish them. 

Snape was highly entertained by her agitation, and somewhat impressed by her lack of fear, once her anger at him had been aroused. Miss Cooper was definitely determined not to give up her secrets to him easily. She fought his invasion of her mind tooth and nail, and the loathing she projected at him for being the agent of that invasion of her privacy was both potent and vehement. 

All that Snape was able to determine from his examination of her mind was that Miss Cooper had been sightseeing outside their boundaries, and as she claimed, had blacked out preceding her appearance here. Her memories of how she felt when it happened sounded suspiciously like the use of a Portkey to Snape, but that wasn’t likely, considering that she was a Muggle.

When Snape was convinced that Welkin really did not know how she’d gotten there, and nothing else truly useful was revealed by his inspection of her thoughts, he performed the Obliviate Charm, and was startled to discover that it was totally ineffective on her. That had never happened to him before and he was at a complete loss to explain it. Her memory was totally intact, judging by the verbal torrent of vulgarisms and insults she continued to hurl at him. 

“Come with me,” Snape ordered, intent on reporting his findings to Dumbledore. Grasping her wrist firmly, he dragged Miss Cooper out the door behind him, with her still blustering her ridiculous threats at him.

"Let me go! Let me go right now, you filthy son of a bitch! Or I'll rip your balls off and stuff 'em up your ass!"

* * *

“So, let me get this straight. Because this ‘Oculate’ thing won’t work on me for some inexplicable reason...”

“Obliviate,” Dumbledore corrected with a kindly smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Welkin agreed impatiently. “Because the big O doesn’t work on me, you’re telling me the only viable solution is that I’m stuck here?”

“Precisely.”

“Bullshit! I’m not a spy. I’m not any kind of security threat. I don’t even know how I got here in the first place, so I couldn’t find my way back again if I tried. And I certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell anybody I was kidnapped by a bunch of witches, mentally RAPED...” she spat that part indignantly at Snape, “and spirited away to Hogshead, or whatever you call this godforsaken place. It wouldn’t exactly look good on a resume, if you know what I mean. _‘Mentally deranged woman seeks job opening’…_ ”.

“Miss Cooper,” Snape responded in his low timbre. “I assure you that entering the mind of a Muggle, particularly one as undisciplined as yourself, was not at all the singular pleasure that you seem to think it was. The prospect of _touching_ you,” he snarled the word with distaste, “mentally or otherwise, does not intrigue me...in...the...least.” 

Snape seemed to enjoy drawing out the last sentence with a cruel vocal flourish.

Welkin stared at him for a few silent beats, considering her tremendous annoyance with him. 

“You really are an _egregiously_ pompous asshole,” she finally responded, narrowing her hazel green eyes at him.

She turned back to Dumbledore, who was still smiling at her. With amusement, Albus had observed the slight look of disappointment in Snape’s glittering black eyes as Welkin turned away from him dismissively. It wasn’t often that anyone dared to assess Severus in such a blunt and truthful manner, to his face at least. Dumbledore was enjoying it immensely. He also noted the undercurrents of sexual attraction between the pair, despite their outward enmity. For quite some time, Albus had been of the opinion that Severus needed a woman in his bed to improve his harsh disposition, and to alleviate his growing ennui with his lot in life. This amusing, albeit somewhat foul-mouthed Muggle lovely might just do to accomplish both tasks, Albus decided, as he observed them together. 

“Miss Cooper, how does this sound?” Dumbledore adopted a conciliatory tone. “You allow us to offer you our hospitality here at Hogwarts for a time while we work on a solution to our mutual problems, and we’ll try to make your stay as enjoyable, and painless as possible...won’t we, Severus?” 

He turned to Snape, who was pretending not to notice Miss Cooper crossing and uncrossing a rather lovely pair of legs while she stole a glance at the aforementioned ‘pompous asshole’ standing cross-armed and stiff in a corner of the headmaster’s office.

“Oh, yeeesss...” Snape said, drawing out the affirmation and sounding to Welkin like the snake he undoubtedly was. “We’ll be _ever_ so delighted to see that she’s properly entertained.” His sarcastic tone and obvious lack of enthusiasm belied the statement.

“Thank you, Prince Charming,” Welkin deadpanned. “I don’t suppose that I have a choice in the matter?”

“Regrettably, no,” Dumbledore announced too cheerfully. He rose to conclude the audience. 

“I’ll arrange for a room to be prepared for you right away. I believe there are two lovely adjoining rooms that happen to be unoccupied on the upper level in the North Tower. We cannot allow you unrestricted access to Hogwarts of course, my dear, but Severus can temporarily occupy the second room to attend to your needs should you require anything.”

Snape looked a little startled and Welkin looked absolutely flustered.

“Next to _him_? I thought you said this would be painless,” she said indignantly. She frowned at Snape, who glared back at her.

"Yes, I'm afraid that I must insist on that, my dear. I hope you will manage to restrain yourself from making any attempts to divest Professor Snape of his genitals, as you have threatened," Dumbledore requested. "It will make everything go much more smoothly if you do."

"I guess I can manage that," Welkin conceded to him. "He's such an irresistible _charmer_. There must be _hundreds_ of women lining up to have a go at him. I certainly wouldn't want to interfere with his burgeoning love life," Welkin said snidely.

Snape glared harder at her, if that was possible.

“No more time for pleasantries, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore announced as he propelled them both out the door. “Students to see, you know! We’ll see that all the things you need, clothing, personal effects and such, are transported from your home immediately. Just give Severus a list and your address and we’ll see that it’s taken care of. I’ll look forward to seeing you at supper this evening, Miss Cooper.”

The door slammed in their faces. 

“First thing on the list,” Welkin announced glumly, as they began walking down the hallway together, “I’ve got a big bottle of Jagermeister and some vodka in the fridge, a bottle of very nice single malt scotch, and several bottles of wine on the counter. A lit-tle vampire bat tells me I’m going to need them all.”

“How surprising that the first thing on your list would be prodigious amounts of alcohol,” Snape drawled in a manner that clearly intimated he wasn’t the least bit surprised. “Planning to further befuddle that fine Muggle mind of yours, are you?”

“Whatever gets me through the night, asshole.”

“Stop calling me that.” He frowned at her as if that might actually incline her to pay attention to his obvious displeasure with the word when applied to himself.

“Stop _being_ one and maybe I will. Give me a pen and paper please, I have a list to make. What's your name again, Prince Charming?” she asked in her annoyingly flippant way.

"You may call me...Professor Snape," he informed her haughtily.

"Professor, huh? What class do you teach? Remind me never to sign up for it."

"My class would be quite beyond your obviously meager abilities, Miss Cooper. I suggest you concern yourself with pursuits which you are much more likely to be proficient in, such as drinking and gratuitous profanity."

She really _wasn't_ going to like this guy at all, Welkin thought sourly. And if he was going to be sleeping in the room next to hers, she certainly hoped that he didn't snore. With a nose that big, his snoring probably went off the Richter scale.

* * *


	3. The Inevitable Tumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin really can't stand that asshole of a Potions master, can she? Well, maybe that's about to change.

* * *

Within the hour, Welkin’s personal effects had arrived, by a method that wasn’t explained to her. Even if it had been explained, she doubted it would have made any more sense to her than anything else she had been told so far. 

She had tried her bedroom door to discover it locked, so she contented herself with putting away her things in the large chifforobe in the corner. Welkin was delighted to see that she had a balcony, presumably because she was up so high off the ground floor that they didn’t think she would try to escape by that route. They were correct in that assumption, but perhaps she’d enjoy a little fresh air out there after supper tonight and have some wine to soothe her mind. 

As she changed into a vee-necked black top and black jeans, she could hear Snape moving around next door, apparently also settling into his temporary quarters. No doubt, he was the one who had securely locked her door. She held no illusions that, despite what Dumbledore said, Snape was there primarily as a guard, and not to see to her comfort.

It was past breakfast time by now, but Welkin was more tired than hungry. Her conference with Albus Dumbledore and his right-hand asshole, Severus Snape, had lasted until dawn. She crawled into the center of the soft bed fully clothed and nodded off to sleep.

* * *

Welkin was in the middle of a disturbing dream when she woke up again about midday. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to remember the details. She was pretty sure it must have been a nightmare though, because she did remember that it featured Snape. She was a prisoner in a tower, and Snape was slowly advancing on her. That's all of it she could recall.

Lunch was served to her in her room that first day, but Snape appeared at her door as the sun began to set, to escort her to supper. As she had anticipated, supper was mostly an unmitigated disaster, although the food was plentiful and she had to admit that the ambiance in the Great Hall was surprisingly cozy, with all of the candles floating unsupported in the air. 

Welkin was seated between Dumbledore and Professor Snape at the head table, and Snape kept staring at her throughout the meal, as if he was her personal warden. It creeped her out so much that she almost couldn’t finish her second helping of blackberry cobbler. No need to starve herself, she thought. She might just need the extra energy if she got a chance to make a break for freedom tonight.

When Welkin excused herself to go to the ladies' room, Snape went with her and was lurking just outside the door when she came back out, as if he didn’t trust her to abide by the agreement she’d made with Dumbledore. Never mind the fact that she had spent her supposed bathroom break searching for a window or another exit to escape through. That fact was beside the point to her. Welkin was still tremendously insulted that Snape, her sullen-faced warden, obviously didn’t trust her.

In fact, nobody she met here seemed to trust her. What was it they had called her again? A Muggle? It didn't sound particularly flattering the way they said it. Why couldn't they at least give her the benefit of the doubt? After all, it wasn't her fault that she was here. This Snape person, in particular, was relentlessly rude and condescending to her, even though she had told them the truth, over and over again. 

By this time more than a little paranoid, Welkin imagined that every pair of students' eyes was glued to the Muggle interloper at the headmaster’s table throughout the meal. Quite a few of the curious eyes actually were. The most intense scrutiny was from one table in particular, where a boy with large, round, owl-like glasses sat with a rather delicately pretty girl with tousled hair, and a boy with flaming red hair. At one point she heard the freckle-faced redhead say, incredulously, and rather injudiciously loudly to the girl, "You must be daft! She’s _not_ his girlfriend. Who would want to snog Professor Snape?"

_Who indeed?_ Welkin thought. The man was beyond infuriating. She wasn’t quite certain if _‘snogging’_ was kissing, or fucking, but she was pretty sure you shouldn’t contemplate either option with a man you’d like to strangle most of the time when you’re in the same room with him. It didn’t matter if he _was_ kind of off-kilter oddly attractive, emphasis on _off-kilter_ , judging by some of the disgusting things she’d seen floating in those glass jars in the dungeon.

_Attractive? Where the hell did that thought come from? Better keep your mind on your cobbler and off of that wizard asshole seated to your right_ , Welkin advised herself.

"Thinking about having a _third_ dessert, Miss Cooper?" The accusing voice at her ear jerked her attention back to the present. "I can see that you are deep in thought. What an unaccustomed sensation that must be for you." 

Snape looked smug, like he was mentally tallying game points he had just earned. Welkin turned toward him, ready to volley a response back into his court, when suddenly she saw his eyes drop briefly from her face before flicking swiftly back up again. 

Welkin’s eyes flicked downward briefly as well, checking the vicinity of the Potions Master’s crotch. Was that the beginning of a bulge that she detected? She was pretty sure it was. It was hard to tell in this light. She definitely had seen where he was looking for that brief instant though.

"And _your_ thoughts, Professor Snape, appear to have wandered deep for a moment as well. Deep into my cleavage, _eyes front!_ " she hissed at him just low enough that no one else could hear. With evil satisfaction, she could have sworn that she saw his sallow face flush with embarrassment. Point, game, match.

“Would you like another helping of dessert, Miss Cooper?” Dumbledore asked. 

“Yes, I believe I would,” Welkin told him, ignoring Snape’s knowing smirk. At least the headmaster was nice to her, and apparently wasn’t intending to starve her like Prince NotSoCharming was. 

Welkin deliberately dropped her napkin and bent to retrieve it, giving herself a better opportunity to check out Snape’s lap again. 

When she straightened back up in her chair, Welkin wore a bemused expression. As she had suspected, Snape was sporting the beginnings of what promised to be a massive hard-on. His jacket somewhat concealed it, but it was definitely there. Not since her last Fed-Ex delivery had Welkin seen such a big package.

* * *

By the time his examination of her was concluded, Snape had been certain that Welkin Cooper had far too little self-control to be a spy. For some reason, it had suited him to keep that belief to himself and not include it in his report to Dumbledore. 

Miss Cooper was infuriating, of course, with her annoying American Muggle accent and crude way of expressing herself, but truth be told, he was rather enjoying some aspects of the interplay. It had been far too long since anyone, male or female, had dared to stand up to him. The students at Hogwarts were largely afraid of him, for good reason, as were a number of the other faculty. Snape often used that to his advantage, though it rarely gave him any real pleasure. He only experienced a deepening sense of loneliness that was getting harder to ignore as the years passed, and a declining interest in anything other than memories of a woman he had not ever really been destined to have.

Miss Cooper irritated him immensely, and that’s what had piqued his interest in toying with her, like a cat with a frightened little mouse. To his surprise, she was anything but that. She did not seem to be frightened of or intimidated by him in the least. It was like a window being thrown open in a hot and stifling room. She blew through like a cooling breeze, invigorating him despite an occasional nip of verbal frostbite.

By supper, he was at the top of his game, and she had started to fray a little around the mental edges, he had noted to himself with satisfaction. He was inwardly reveling in her obvious nervousness, until the embarrassing incident when his control slipped and she took his quite natural reaction to her body as a victory of sorts.

Snape would never understand the tendency of some females to display themselves in a manner that invited a man’s sexual scrutiny, and then to protest and demean him when he did just that. He had often been accused of being cruel, but to him that seemed to be the height of cruelty and capriciousness. Miss Cooper was obviously an exceedingly capricious woman.

By the time he had delivered his maddening charge back to her room, and bid her a curt good evening, he had determined that this particular game had soured for him, and he would have no more of it. Let her play her childish games with herself. She was obviously no match for him in any way, despite what she might have convinced herself to believe. The cheek of her! Taunting him as she had at supper! That settled it. She was not worthy of his further attentions to her beyond what was required of him by Dumbledore.

* * *

A few tedious hours passed, as Snape was attempting to concentrate on his reading and ignore the sounds of Welkin’s incessant movement in the room next to his. Just as he thought he might succeed, a much louder and more insistent noise began. Snape endured the escalating sounds of cursing and what sounded like her banging something against one of the walls for at least ten minutes, until he decided that this state of affairs just wouldn’t do. He would swiftly put an end to whatever strange Muggle ritual was taking place next door.

Removing the simple locking spell on the door to her room, he entered to find Miss Cooper still trying to force open the door to her balcony.

"I think the damn thing’s either swollen or painted shut," she explained, looking exasperated. "It’s hotter than hell in here! Can you help me get this open?"

With a frown, but without a word to her, Snape drew his wand, and with a wave, unstuck the door. It swung open and banged against the wall several times, the breeze from another approaching thunderstorm in the distance swirling the folds of the curtains and the silky blue nightgown she was wearing. The fabric was sheer and he could plainly see the outlines of her body through the gown. A blue and white robe lay discarded on a chair at a table that held a wine bottle that was more than half empty, Snape noticed.

"Thank you," she smiled tentatively, and glided forward on bare feet to stand directly in front of him, the wind still whipping at her gown.

"I want to apologize for embarrassing you tonight. I guess I get a little carried away at times," she admitted hesitantly. "It was a rotten thing to do." 

She reached up to lay a soft hand against his cheek. "I promise to play nice if you will, Professor." 

Her low voice was pleasant and soothing to him. She smiled at him and it took him by surprise how it affected him. He had an almost irresistible urge to return her gentle touch. What was she up to? He focused on that thought, and the spell was broken.

Snape was wary of Welkin’s sudden change of demeanor towards him, and suspected he was ‘being had’ as the Muggles liked to put it. What new game was this that she had decided to play?

"This display is not necessary, Miss Cooper. I am well aware, and you have made it quite clear, that you find me distasteful in every way. There is no need to pretend otherwise." 

He turned to leave and was surprised again when she caught him by the hand to pull him back, and responded with barely controlled annoyance to his terse dismissal. 

"Don’t try to tell me what I think about you, or about anything else for that matter. You may have been in my head, but you don’t _know_ what I really think and I won’t be condescended to like a child. I’m trying to apologize and you...you’re acting like..."

"An arsehole?" he finished for her coldly, using her often repeated insult. 

As usual with him, this was not going the way that Welkin had intended it to. Frustrated by his cool response, and more than a little emboldened by the wine she had drunk, Welkin drew back her hand and slapped him as hard as she could across the face. 

His face stinging sharply, Snape’s control finally broke. He grabbed Welkin by the wrists and snarled ominously though his uneven, clenched teeth. " _Sooooo_...you want to _play_ , do you? Then by all means, let’s _play!_ "

He jerked her against him and she cried out, whether in fear, surprise, or excitement, he didn’t know and didn’t care. Snape clutched her auburn hair in one hand to pull her head back as his mouth descended on hers. He thrust his other hand between her legs to massage her roughly. He was surprised again to find her already wet and obviously ready for him. When he drew back from the kiss, instead of struggling, she suddenly threw her arms around him and brazenly groaned her consent against his chest. While he stood there stiffly, somewhat stunned, her slender fingers fumbled at the buttons of his jacket, until she finally managed to defrock him of it. "Oh yes, Severus, please...let’s _play!_ " she agreed in her low, husky voice.

With a shock, Snape realized that despite his relentlessly harsh treatment of her since she had arrived here, Miss Cooper actually did find him attractive. She desired him! This was not a reaction he was accustomed to receiving from women, by any means, since he lacked both the looks and the personality they seemed to prefer. He felt his own desire rising like an unleashed animal, and this time he would not force it down. He allowed himself to respond.

Welkin tried to move away, just to draw the nightgown over her head. "No need for that," Snape growled. He grasped the silk fabric in his hand at her neckline, and rent it completely down the front, tossing it aside like the very expensive rag it now was.

Welkin had never been so completely turned-on in her life. He was so rough! So callous! So fucking... _desirable!_ She clung to him eagerly, her mouth glued to his, and they never made it to the bed. They tumbled to the floor where they stood, grasping and grinding frantically at each other. 

Unfortunately, this coupling would have to be quick and dirty, Snape concluded. He didn’t want to give her time to think about it and change her mind. He removed his lips from hers just long enough to speak the words to dissolve his own clothing into nothingness.

Released from constraint, his rigid cock slapped against his stomach and he heard Miss Cooper moan softly at the sound of it. She immediately reached down and he felt her grasp him firmly as she moaned a little louder at the feel of him pulsating in her hand. 

The approaching rainstorm had finally arrived, and wind carried water spray from the rain falling outside on the balcony, which misted over their bodies as they lay entwined on the floor, rolling over one another like the rapid lightning flashes and booming crashes of thunder rolling over the castle outside.

Taking full advantage of the opportunity she had presented so brazenly to him, Snape swiftly but thoroughly massaged, teased and punished every accessible inch of her body, as she writhed and undulated beneath his touch. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she cried out urgently to him for release, begging to be taken. 

Snape then roughly took her there on the hard floor, adopting a position he’d seen pictured in her mind at one point during his interrogation. Her shapely legs were thrown over his shoulders and he thrust himself into her like a frenzied madman, until she came with a series of even louder cries, punctuated by the phrase ‘oh fuck’ repeated over and over again. 

Snape, a master of control in more ways than one, gave one final deep thrust, and cried out just once, filling her with his fluids. He collapsed atop her, insufferably pleased with himself for his lovemaking prowess.

No need to put this into a report to Dumbledore, Snape thought. He was fairly certain there was no way this could be re-interpreted as offering Miss Cooper the ‘hospitality’ that Dumbledore had referred to earlier.

Now that the orgasms were over, Welkin started to consider the possibility that this had been a huge mistake, even if Snape had just given her one of the best poundings of her life. 

Snape was still lying on top of her, apparently content to keep her pinned to the floor the rest of the night. _At the very least, the selfish bastard could shift me out of this massive wet spot_ , she thought with annoyance. _How in hell long had it been since this guy had sex anyway?_

"Come on now...don’t fall asleep...get off me." 

"That is amusing, Miss...Cooper." He slowly raised his head, locks of lank black hair falling in his face, his deep black eyes just inches from hers. "That is not what you were _begging_ me to do a little while ago." 

There was a smirk on his face again and a decidedly ungentlemanly emphasis on the word begging. He was, however, supporting his weight just enough that she managed to wriggle out from under him, a process he found stimulating and she found exasperating.

"Begging?" Welkin scrambled to her feet and tried to muster as much dignity as she could in a situation like this. She was a moderately bruised woman with no clothes on, who had just been properly ravished by a wizard. She would have to fake the dignity part.

"Begging?” she repeated. “Oh how I’ve missed the dulcet tones of male vanity in the glowing aftermath of sex,” she announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I was just humoring you so you wouldn’t kill me," she lied to him. She groaned slightly as she limped her way to the bed and sat gingerly on the edge. "I’m getting too old for this rolling around on the floor crap," she muttered to herself.

Snape followed her to the bed and sat beside her. "Did I injure you with my vigorous lovemaking, Miss Cooper?" he inquired, sounding suddenly uncharacteristically solicitous. Sex seemed to have improved his disposition, at least where she was concerned. 

His archaic and overly formal way of expressing himself was quite a turn-on to her, Welkin had to admit. The contrast between the controlled and formal way that he spoke and the animalistic way he fucked was irresistible to her.

"Just my pride, and a few other hundred or so tender places. It’s nothing that won’t mend. And would you _please_ stop calling me Miss Cooper? Under the circumstances it’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think?"

"As you wish, Welkin." The inflection he gave her name made it sound like something she'd never heard before.

"Thank you," she said softly, for the first time with not even a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "One other thing - would you please cover that thing up?" She pointed at his overly large cock. "It’s making me a little nervous. I feel like I’ve been fucked by the Hindenburg."

"Certainly, Welkin," Snape said, wondering what the Hindenburg was, and if it was a favorable thing to have his cock compared to it.

Snape took her hand and slowly placed it over the ostensibly offending body part. "Was this what you had in mind?" he asked, his low voice tinged with lust. Welkin felt his cock twitch and begin to spring to life again at her touch.

"Oh shit! So soon? That’s not exactly what I meant." 

Snape cut off Welkin’s fake protest by pulling her to him and firmly ‘snogging’ her. This time he intended to take his time. He pulled her down with him and covered her body with his.

Somewhere, Albus Dumbledore was undoubtedly laughing at them both. Game, set, match.

* * *


	4. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Snape is full of surprises on the eve of the Yule Ball, and Lucius Malfoy takes notice of Snape's new pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is 1994 and I've taken liberties with the date of the Yule Ball, to accomodate developments in future chapters.

* * *

Several more days passed. It stopped raining and the weather abruptly changed to a more seasonal cold snap. Welkin spent her time either confined to her room, reading in front of the fireplace from books he provided her while Snape was teaching class, or being escorted to the Great Hall by him for meals. She managed to meet more of the teachers during these brief forays, and a few of the students. 

At night, Snape would visit her room and they would have sex, then sit on her balcony, drink wine, and talk for a while before he always chose to return to his own room. Each night he extended his postcoital visit longer, as he apparently grew more comfortable with it. On the third night, he mentioned that he had arranged for her to attend the annual Yule Ball with him the next evening. It sounded more like a command than an invitation.

* * *

Welkin was just finishing her makeup the next evening when Snape arrived to escort her to the Ball. He was dressed in a new suit he’d chosen for the event, the first Hogwarts Yule Ball to which he would actually be escorting someone. Truthfully, it looked rather a lot like all of his other suits to Welkin, just a bit more elegantly fitted, and of a finer material, she could tell. Severus Snape was definitely not a man prone to fads in fashion.

"You look very handsome. How do I look?" she asked, twirling for him in the long, green gown she’d chosen. The gown, with a more modest neckline in front, was scooped daringly low in back. It was so low, in fact, that it revealed the dimples at the small of her back, just above her buttocks. The effect was quite startling when she turned. 

Glittering silver shoes and above-the-elbow silver satin gloves completed the ensemble. Her auburn hair was pinned loosely up for the evening, and adorned with judiciously placed dragonfly jewels with black, silver and green stones. Unwittingly, or perhaps not, she had chosen the House of Slytherin colors, Snape noticed.

"Well?" 

"You look quite...exquisite," Snape offered, not quite rendered speechless, but close to it.

"From you, often unkind sir, that’s high praise indeed. Ready to go?" 

"I have something for you," Snape demurred, drawing a small black lacquered box from the recesses of his pocket.

"A gift for me? That’s so unexpected." She accepted the box from him with genuine surprise. "I didn’t really know if you celebrated Christmas, but I have something for you too. I’ll give it to you after the Ball."

"I know," Snape said with a smirk. 

"That’s not what I mean and you know it. I have a _real_ Christmas gift for you later. Charity Burbage helped me get it after I mentioned that I wanted to get you something. In appreciation of all the hot Wizard sex, of course," Welkin added quickly, not wanting it to seem like she had gone off the deep end about him, or anything so unseemly. They were just having great sex together, and she had grown rather fond of him, despite her initial irritation. She didn't want to pretend to either one of them that it was anything more than that.

"Open it," Snape indicated the box she was still holding. As she opened the lid, she smiled in spite of herself.

"Perhaps you’ll consider wearing it tonight," Snape requested, somehow making a mild suggestion sound like a requirement.

"It’s beautiful." She lifted the bracelet to the light to admire it. The sinuously winding snake, meant to entwine the wrist on the cuff style bangle, was set copiously with what appeared to be golden citrines and black diamonds, with glittering black diamonds for the eyes. The citrines were a concession on Snape’s part to his observation of Welkin’s predilection for wearing citrine jewelry. He would have preferred emeralds.

"Would you do the honors?" She handed him the bracelet and extended her right wrist. 

"I think the left wrist would be more appropriate," Snape said, slipping the bracelet on over her gloved left wrist.

"It’s really gorgeous," she said, fingering the stones with her right hand. Despite her broad smile, she made no move to kiss him. "Thank you,” she said simply. “I think I’m going to wear it every day. It’ll be my new signature piece." 

_That would be advisable_ , Snape thought to himself. He would have something more to discuss with her about the bracelet after the Ball. For now, it was merely his intention that it be on display on her wrist this evening. 

"Now let’s go make everyone else jealous of how good we look," Welkin said. 

Snape obligingly offered the crook of his arm and she enfolded hers in it as they headed out the door.

* * *

Student eyes were widening and mouths were dropping open at the sight of Snape and Welkin arm-in-arm entering the Great Hall, now transformed into a glittering ballroom. Mouths dropped even more at the retreating view of the back of, or rather the lack of the back of, Welkin’s dress. 

Welkin was waving to the people she had met, as Snape gave more restrained nods of recognition to others. Did he seem to be standing a little taller to them, with Welkin on his arm? Or was that an optical illusion, brought on by the somewhat astonishing sight of Snape with anyone at all on his arm?

Quite a few of the adults in the room, both faculty and visiting parents, looked equally as astonished as the students. It was exactly the effect that Welkin had hoped to create. From what she had surmised from their nightly conversations, she suspected that Snape, in his years at Hogwarts as student and professor, had rarely, if ever, been able to walk into a party and do more than hover on the periphery; a benignly ignored or merely tolerated spectator, but always tacitly excluded from the activities. 

That's why she wanted this small spectacle to play out for him. She wanted him to feel the palpable envy which was being directed towards him that she was sensing from the looks in the eyes of some of the other men in the room, and she was willing to sacrifice a little of her dignity, and half her dress, to provide that feeling for him tonight.

* * *

"Good evening, Miss Granger...Mr. Weasley...Mr. Potter." Snape drew out the last name with seeming reluctance and distaste. 

"Hi, guys," Welkin greeted more warmly, as they paused at her insistence. "I love your dress, Hermione. The color is very becoming. Isn’t it, Ron?" Welkin teased, making the young man blush almost as bright a shade as his red hair.

"Thank you, Miss Cooper." Hermione also blushed a little. She was glad _someone_ had noticed, and complimented her extra effort on her appearance tonight, even if it _was_ only Miss Cooper.

"You can call me Welkin. Better stick to Professor Snape for this one though or it’s..." She drew a finger across her throat and made an exaggerated slashing motion, with an appropriately dramatic sound effect, as Snape quickly led her away from them.

"I can’t believe it," Ron said, after they were out of earshot. "Maybe she _is_ snogging ole Snape."

"How could she get away with acting like that with him otherwise?" Harry agreed. 

"Well, she _is_ being kept a prisoner in the North Tower, I've heard. Maybe he has her under an enchantment. Maybe she's _forced_ to. I can't imagine her snogging him otherwise!" Ron asserted firmly.

"Oh shut up! The both of you! Maybe she just fancies him! Did you ever think of that? And what would either of you two know about kissing anyone anyway?" Hermione stormed off in a huff, leaving the two young men looking at each other in puzzlement.

* * *

As the evening progressed, Welkin noticed the curious phenomenon of a number of people reacting strangely at the first glimpse of her new bracelet. It wasn’t until she became involved in a conversation with Minerva McGonagall at the makeshift bar that she found out why.

"That’s a lovely bracelet," Minerva said. "From Severus, I presume?" 

"Yes, it’s a Christmas gift," Welkin replied, innocently sipping from her second glass of champagne.

"And did Severus tell you what it meant when he gave it to you?" Minerva asked, obviously privy to something that Welkin was not.

"Just that it was a gift and he wanted me to wear it tonight. Is there something else?"

"Perhaps it’s not my place to say." 

"Don’t clam up on me now. You started this. You obviously know something about my bracelet, and I’d like to know what."

"Well, Miss Cooper, a bracelet such as this has a very particular ancient Slytherin tradition attached to it," Minerva began.

"Slytherin tradition? What tradition?" Welkin nonchalantly took another sip of champagne.

"When a Slytherin male presents a female with a bracelet such as this, worn on the left wrist, it serves as a mark of his intentions, and particularly a sign to other males that you are not available. It’s a public notice that he has taken you as his lady. Surely he told you this?" Minerva insisted.

Welkin was momentarily speechless, until irritation loosened her tongue. 

"No, he _didn’t_ tell me anything like that." Welkin downed the rest of her champagne in one agitated gulp, motioning to the bartender frantically for a refill.

" _Taken_ me?" She bristled at the possessive connotation of the phrase. "You mean that everyone thinks we’re _engaged_ or something? Is that why they’ve been whispering and practically patting him on the back all evening?"

"They don’t _think_ , they _know_ that the second you accepted that bracelet, it bound you to him, at least from his perspective. It’s more of a form of bonding than an engagement. In their eyes you’ve accepted his claim on you by wearing it, and any other man who might think of encroaching on that claim does so at his own peril."

"But I _didn’t_ accept! I wasn’t given a chance to," Welkin protested.

"Forgive me for asking so personal a question, Miss Cooper, but are you saying you have _not_ been intimate with Severus?"

"Well...yes I have...rather repeatedly in the past several days. What does that have to do with anything?"

"That is the reason why, in his eyes, as well as everyone else’s, I’m afraid, you have accepted his claim."

"Holy shit!" Welkin downed her third glass of champagne. What kind of an idiotic moral code was this? Without her knowledge, she’d been branded. Only instead of a ‘Scarlet Letter’ affixed to the front of her dress, with a citrine snake wrapped around her wrist.

Albus Dumbledore ambled up to the bar to get a drink and, seeing Welkin’s agitated face, asked what was wrong.

"Severus didn’t tell her about the bracelet when he presented it to her," Minerva told him.

"Oh dear, is that true, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, as the man of the evening strolled up.

"Is what true?" 

"That you didn’t tell this poor girl about the bracelet?" 

"No, he certainly _didn’t_." Welkin glared at Snape. "Everybody’s apparently gossiping about it, and I’ve been sitting here like a moron all evening, totally clueless. When exactly were you planning to let me in on this?"

"Tonight," Snape drawled, showing scant concern with her obvious agitation. 

"Then why couldn’t you have waited to give it to me tonight? If you think you _own_ me just because we had sex, I’ve got a news flash for you, _nobody_ owns me,” Welkin informed him angrily.

Snape stood looking at her much too calmly as she went off on a tirade.

“For your information, Professor Snape, I’ll talk to whomever I want to tonight. I’ll drink with whomever I want to. I’ll dance with whomever I want to…oh right, wait…you fixed that, didn’t you?"

Welkin shook the bracelet in his face. "All the men here have seen _this_ already and they probably won’t ask me to dance. I can’t imagine why. Oh, let’s see, could it possibly be because they’re afraid you might… _kill them?_ " she asked him sarcastically. "Don’t dance with Welkin, she’s a friggin’ death trap!" she fussed.

As if on cue, the band struck up a fast tango. 

"I think I can remedy that, if you wish to dance." Snape took her hand and started leading her to the dance floor. 

"You’re kidding...to _this?_ " Welkin sounded incredulous.

Snape didn’t seem the tango type to her, and particularly not the type who would be inclined to dance such a dramatically exhibitionist dance in public. Everyone else who knew the solitary and taciturn Potions Master apparently thought so too. Every head seemed to turn in unison to stare as she and Snape reached the center of the floor and started to dance, beginning as Snape twirled her out to arm’s length and jerked her back forcefully against the length of his body.

Albus Dumbledore smiled to himself as he watched. Apparently Severus was wasting no time in sealing the deal on this one. 

Executing the passionate steps perfectly, Snape leaned her upper body back while keeping his hips pressed to hers. He guided her into a sensual and sinewy snakelike figure eight, one of the signature moves that have caused the dance to be described as _‘like having sex on a hardwood floor’_ or _‘the vertical expression of a horizontal desire’_.

Welkin lifted one leg, the side slit in her gown parting, and placed it against the side of his hip, letting it slide sensually down the length of his thigh. Severus did another perfect sweep with one foot, Welkin’s arm pinioned behind his back, and then whipped her back and forth, changing direction in quick succession. The expanse of skin revealed by Welkin’s low-cut gown emphasized each erotic movement.

"Where did you ever learn to dance like this?" she whispered a little breathlessly in his ear. Her back was now pressed against his torso as he slid his hands up her body. Welkin leaned against him and he drew her left arm up over her head, caressing it and placing it behind his neck.

"Just because I rarely get the opportunity to use them, does not mean I am without skills, Welkin," Snape whispered back to her. "I would think that I have made you well aware of that in the past several evenings I have been with you in your room."

* * *

"I think he’s been doing more than snogging her," Ron Weasley whispered to Harry, trying not to let Hermione, who had rejoined them and was now mesmerized by the dance, hear him.

Thanks to Draco and other house members of Slytherin, most of the older Hogwarts students now knew the significance of the bracelet Welkin was wearing, and were clearly fascinated by this side of Professor Snape they had never suspected existed, particularly some of the female students who might have already tended towards having a slight crush on the mysterious, inaccessible Potions Master. He was looking a lot less inaccessible by the minute.

When the dance ended, to much applause, someone shouted "Mistletoe!" Standing directly in the center of the dance floor, where they had started, Welkin was the first to look up and spy the traditional holiday plant overhead. By this time the chant of "Mistletoe" had been replaced with the demand _"Kiss her...Kiss her...Kiss her...Kiss her..."_

"Shall we?" Snape asked. He was just full of surprises this evening, Welkin thought, her anger at him now somewhat abated by the romantic gesture of the dance, and now this proffered public kiss.

"I’m still angry with you. I should just walk away, you know, and leave you standing here like a fool."

"But you won’t," Snape replied, much too sure of himself to suit her. 

In this instance, he was right. Snape jerked her back into his arms as if they were still dancing, and gave her a long, deep kiss that drew more applause and some sophomoric hooting from some of the less mature members of the student body. Snape made a mental note on which ones had hooted, as reference for their next school term in his class, when he would amply exact his punishment for such insolence.

"You know," Welkin told him, as they walked arm-in-arm back to the group at the bar, "the way some of these girls are looking at you right now, Professor Snape, maybe I should be slapping a bracelet on you too, before they start acting on their fantasies. I’d hate to have to kick their nubile little asses during this festive holiday season."

* * *

Interesting bit of Muggle fluff Severus had acquired for himself, Lucius Malfoy thought, leering at Welkin from the other end of the bar. He supposed that Snape wouldn’t be willing to loan her to him for a fortnight. He pictured the things he could do to her in a fortnight, and smiled to himself. They were things she would never be able to forget. But no, Severus wasn’t the sharing type. The bracelet protecting her, offered so quickly after bedding her, was proof of that. _Snape choosing a Muggle_ , he thought with distaste. _Who would have dreamed it?_

* * *

Welkin was questioning Dumbledore concerning progress on their ‘mutual problem’ but there seemed to be surprisingly little of it, as far as she could tell.

"Interestingly enough, we’ve discovered through our sources at the Ministry of Magic that an ancestor of yours was hanged as a witch in the American colonies in the 1600's. Were you aware of this?"

"No," Welkin said. "It doesn’t necessarily mean she was a _real_ witch," she added rather pragmatically. "Just means she was hanged for one. Some people were, you know."

"But if she were a real witch, perhaps this would explain why you were able to resist the Obliviate Charm. Think back...since you were a child, have you exhibited any unusual abilities before this?" Dumbledore asked.

"No...not that I recall," Welkin hedged on the truth a little. "Nothing that wouldn’t have been a coincidence, I think."

Dumbledore looked at her thoughtfully. "You are very good at explaining away the magic in life, Welkin. That isn’t necessarily a good thing," he advised her. 

"At any rate," he continued, "It appears that your visit with us might be extended beyond the holidays, while we pursue more information. The difficulty will be to explain your absence from the Muggle world."

"Well, actually, probably not," Welkin said. "I was between jobs when this happened, because I’d just moved to a new city. And I was on a holiday to Scotland. I actually don’t think I’ll be missed immediately as long as my rent is paid on time. I’ll need access to my bank account for that."

Welkin had spoken before she thought about it. _Why did you just volunteer all that information when you want to leave?_ Welkin chastised herself silently. _You just made it easier for them to keep you here, dumbass. You do want to leave... don't you?_

"Excellent. It shall be arranged. I see no need to keep you as restricted as you have been," Dumbledore added, breaking her troubling train of thought. "You shall have leave to explore the school and grounds as you wish, with a few exceptions. I assume you are still satisfied with your room arrangement?" Dumbledore looked pointedly at the bracelet on her wrist.

"Very satisfied, thank you." If she was suddenly feeling a little unsure of herself, Welkin's clear, decisive tone didn't betray her inner confusion.

"Excellent. Then one more thing before I bid you good night, my dear." He held her hand between his and looked into her green eyes. "As unorthodox as it might be, you have your _own_ brand of magic, Welkin Cooper, and I think Severus is a very fortunate man." He kissed her hand and strolled away.

When Dumbledore left, Welkin was quickly collared by Arthur Weasley for nearly an hour, answering his questions about the Muggle world, as Snape stood by, mostly silently, nursing a glass of scotch.

When Arthur’s wife Molly finally pulled him away, Welkin noticed that the crowd was considerably thinner. Apparently parties in the Wizarding World didn’t last until the wee hours of the morning like they did back home.

"I’m going back to my room for something," she told Severus, who seemed distracted. "Will you meet me down here by the tallest Christmas tree?" She hurried away without waiting to hear his reply.

* * *

Snape sat on the couch that had been placed closest to the Christmas tree, thinking morose, black thoughts. It hadn’t occurred to him that Welkin could still be planning to return to the Muggle world.

You fool. Of course she will leave you. Lily left you, and she will too. What woman would want to be bonded to the likes of you? He could almost hear his father’s disgusted voice in his head, the painful ghost of so many Christmases past.

"You don’t exactly look like you’re filled with Christmas cheer," Welkin observed, as she joined him. She had changed out of her party dress, and into the long silver-grey robe she wore when she arrived here, her shoulder-length hair now loose and unadorned.

"Is anything wrong?" 

She sat beside him on the couch and laid aside the festively wrapped package she was carrying. Very few people lingered in the Great Hall and it felt very intimate in the shadows, with just the twinkling lights from the tree.

"Nothing." He wouldn’t look at her. 

Welkin placed her two hands against his cheeks and he allowed her to turn his head so that his dark eyes faced hers. 

"I know that there is," she said quite gently. "Tell me."

"You aren’t wearing the bracelet," he noticed. 

"Is that all? I took it off because it’s almost time for bed. I didn’t think I had to wear it 24/7. I can’t wear it in the bath, or when we’re having sex, although that _would_ be rather decadent, wouldn't it?" 

She laughed softly at the thought and released him. "Something else bothering you?"

"What happens to us when you leave?" he asked bluntly, his direct question startling her a little.

"I wasn’t aware that my trunk was packed and I was on my way out the door," she replied.

_And I wasn’t aware there was an ‘us’_ , Welkin thought to herself, surprised by him for the fourth time this evening. 

"But you obviously _want_ to leave," Snape asserted bitterly, remembering how avidly Welkin had questioned Dumbledore about her options.

_Why was he doing this when he knew very well that she would have to leave his world at some point? It wasn't a question of whether she wanted to or not. It wasn't up to her, was it? She didn't belong here. It was as simple as that._

"Don’t put words in my mouth, Severus. I never said that. If you don’t know that isn’t true, there isn’t a thing I can say that will convince you otherwise."

"You want to stay then?" he pressed.

"What I want is for you to not try to force the issue. Please, for both our sakes. I don’t respond very well to being pressured,” she admitted. “Right now, I just want to be with you, and not worry about what's in the future. Please don’t make an issue of it tonight. It’s a lovely evening, and it’s not over yet. It could be even more lovely if you'll just let it be."

Welkin gently pushed back a straying lock of dark hair from his face. "I _am_ very fond of you, you know, you pompous asshole," she added affectionately. "Now open your gift like a good boy, or I might have to spank you," she teased to lighten the mood. "And we both know how much I’d _really_ enjoy that."

* * *


	5. Welkin's Run-In with Lucius Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius Malfoy sees an opening to Welkin and tries to slither into it. Snape does his Potions master thing, and Albus ponders the power of love.

* * *

Snape opened his eyes as the morning light filtered through the curtains, his arms possessively encircling a rather sweaty, still sleeping Welkin. It was the first night he’d chosen to stay with her, instead of returning to his room after their lovemaking. 

Welkin had gleefully called it a _‘sleep over’_ and, between their couplings, had regaled him with many funny stories from her life in the Muggle world. Consequently, between the fucking and the talking, there had been little actual sleeping.

He inhaled her fragrance as she slept. It was not the fragrance of perfume, but her natural body scent, which he found much more intoxicating. He stroked her auburn hair, mussed by the evening’s exertions, but silkily soft to his touch. One pink nipple flirted at him from her rounded right breast, exposed above the comforter which covered their bodies. He teased it, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger to roll it gently between them.

"Having fun?" Welkin asked in a raspy morning voice. Her eyes were finally open, looking at him sleepily.

"Oodles," he said, repeating a ridiculous term she’d used the night before. 

The incongruity of Severus Snape using the term _‘oodles’_ struck Welkin as tremendously funny and she burst into laughter.

"Don’t you _ever_ get enough sex? You’ve got to be the horniest wizard alive. What would your students think if they could see you now?" she grinned up at him.

"Very few of them think at all," Snape observed wryly, his other hand sliding between her legs under the sheet to tease her there. One long finger slid into her and her eyes widened.

"Why, Professor, what an unkind thing to say, when I’m sure they’re all _ever_ so admiring of _you_."

A second finger slowly joined the first. The effort of carrying on a lucid conversation was getting harder, as Snape continued the slow movement, in and out.

"There are an occasional few who show some promise of developing into something close to acceptable standards," he conceded.

"You’re a hard, hard man, Professor… _Oh!_ " That certainly hit the spot. 

"Yes, I believe I am." His double entendre was quite evident to her, stiffly pressed against her as it was.

"And now, Miss Cooper," he said with convincing severity, "I think we might just find another use for that impertinent mouth of yours..."

* * *

"I’m starving. I hope your overactive libido hasn’t made us late for breakfast again," Welkin complained. 

She felt much more comfortable casually dressed this morning than she had last night in her Yule Ball finery. Jeans and a simple emerald green sweater set off her curvy figure and Irish coloring to perfection. No makeup but a little lip gloss, long nails painted a silvery shade of blue, flat brown suede boots laced up the front, silver Celtic knot citrine earrings, and, of course, his bracelet, which she thought gave the casual ensemble an exotic accent.

"You’ve already had your protein," Snape pointed out with a smirk. 

"That’s a very old joke, even in my world. Don’t antagonize me before I’ve had my coffee, Severus, or I swear, I’ll take off this bracelet and ram it right up...oh, good morning, Professor Dumbledore," she greeted the headmaster sweetly as Snape seated her, before seating himself next to her at the head table.

"Good morning. Sleep well, I trust?" Dumbledore asked. 

"Hardly at all, actually," Welkin said cheerfully, busily stirring her accustomed two spoonfuls of brown sugar into her coffee.

"I’m sorry to hear that. Not able to relax after the excitement of the Yule Ball?"

"More like, being not able to convince _him_ the third time’s the charm." She indicated Snape with a jerk of her thumb, just before guzzling her cup of coffee to the last drop.

Minerva McGonagall nearly spit her tea back onto the table, having just taken a sip when Welkin made her overly informative announcement.

"Sorry," Welkin said with a grin.

Welkin dug into her omelet with great relish, looking less than contrite. Snape continued calmly sectioning his grapefruit, seemingly oblivious to the commotion that Welkin had caused at the table, although he obviously had heard every word of it.

Dumbledore tactfully changed the subject, but he started to question his wisdom in promoting this unorthodox coupling.

* * *

"After you finish grading your students’ finals, let’s meet up someplace," Welkin suggested. "You can show me some of the places here at the castle that I can’t explore on my own."

Snape looked a little apprehensive at the thought of her wandering around at Hogwarts for several hours on her own, but had little choice, since Dumbledore had seen fit to free her from the confines of her room. 

Snape had argued against it from a security perspective, but actually opposed it from a personal one. Welkin seemed much too inclined to discuss their personal involvement with other people when asked, and he knew that some people would be more than happy to ask her. Their personal arrangement was nobody else’s business, as far as he was concerned.

"I’ll walk you to your classroom. I’ve got a question to ask you anyway," Welkin said. 

He raised an eyebrow at her quizzically. She usually had a lot more than one question to ask him, and didn’t seem to care whether her questions were in the least bit appropriate. If a thought occurred to Welkin, it was often blurted out almost immediately.

"It’s about that blond guy from the Yule Ball last night, the one with the cane. Who is he exactly? He kept looking at me in a way that disturbed me a little."

Snape knew she meant Lucius Malfoy. He had noticed Malfoy’s attention drawn to Welkin as well, and had deliberately placed himself to block Lucius’s view of her several times during the evening, to shield her from his unsavory scrutiny.

"His name is Lucius Malfoy, and you needn’t concern yourself with him. He is the father of one of my students, Draco Malfoy, but he rarely visits Hogwarts."

"He creeps me out, big time," Welkin frowned. "I’m glad he doesn’t hang around here a lot. I don’t trust him any further than I can throw him."

Welkin’s colloquial Muggleisms often made no sense to Snape, but he understood the feeling behind the one she’d used in this case. Despite their long acquaintance, or perhaps because of it, Snape didn’t completely trust Lucius either. Neither Lucius’s intense distaste for Muggles, nor his marriage vows, had prevented him from disporting himself with Muggle women in the past, and not always with their consent, it was rumored.

They had reached the door to his classroom, and suddenly concerned, he grasped her by her arms and forced her to look at him.

"Promise me something. If you were to happen to see him here, at any time, do not ever let yourself be alone with him," he insisted firmly.

"Of course, Severus, I promise," Welkin vowed solemnly, her eyes wide. 

He reluctantly released her.

"Do you think it would cause a total breakdown of student discipline if the exalted Potions master of Hogwarts Academy kissed me goodbye right here in the hallway?"

This was an unexpectedly polite and decorous request, considering that she had openly discussed their sex life at the headmaster’s table less than an hour ago, Snape thought. He was mystified and somewhat annoyed by her mercurial changes of attitude.

Still, he wanted very much to kiss her, and so he did. Unfortunately, just as the trio of Potter, Weasley and Granger walked by. Snape heard Weasley’s loud groan and gave them a glare that made them scurry away around the corner.

* * *

Welkin rounded the corner herself and nearly collided with the three.

"Oh, hi, guys. Sorry about that little awkwardness back there. He’s just a little grumpy from lack of sleep."

"He must _never_ sleep then," Ron Weasley said, "because he’s always like that." 

"Always? Really? That’s strange. He doesn’t seem that way to me." Welkin smiled to herself as they started walking along together.

"He does seem a bit different now, since you’ve been here, that is," Hermione offered. “He’s a little less…rigid.” 

Welkin ducked her head and tried not to laugh. Severus Snape had been _plenty_ rigid in the past several days. Welkin could attest to that personally. 

"Good, then I must be having a good influence on him. I think he just needs a little break from the boredom around here. He seems like he’s under a lot of stress. That’s probably why he was so mean to me in the beginning," Welkin rationalized. 

Welkin smiled again, walking along in her distinctively bouncy way, thinking her cheerfully optimistic thoughts about the great influence she was having on the former asshole, Severus Snape.

"You really _do_ like him, don’t you? You’re not just pretending to," Harry said, sounding as if he had just suddenly realized that it might actually be true that someone could like Professor Snape.

"Yes, I do. Why would I pretend?" 

"Why? He’s not exactly a nice person." 

Harry halted and everyone else stopped walking too. He looked at Welkin as if she had just admitted to a fondness for barbecuing small children over an open flame. 

"Well, nice isn’t always a simple thing to define, Harry. I’m not always nice either. Nobody is, not even you, if you’re really honest about it. Anyway, what’s not to like about him?”

Welkin began to list Snape’s sterling qualities, much to Harry’s frustration: “He’s highly intelligent, very accomplished at what he does, very well-read, funny, and sexy as hell. He’s a great little snogger too," she added for Ron Weasley’s sake, remembering his loud comment from supper the first evening she’d arrived at Hogwarts.

Ron groaned again. He would have been quite happy not knowing that item of information about the old Bat. "Professor Snape, sexy? You must be bonkers!" 

Welkin finally burst out laughing. "Bonkers? Well, maybe I am at that,” she conceded. “Your Professor Snape can be a bit intimidating at times, I admit, but I kind of like that about him too. Lord knows, I’ve never liked obsequious men."

* * *

With no more classes to attend, the trio spent the next several hours showing Welkin the layout of Hogwarts, and even included a trip to visit Hagrid, which she enjoyed enormously. The gentle giant of a man was kind and hospitable. Besides, he seemed to be one of few people around here who had nothing bad to say to her about Professor Snape.

Deposited back at Hogwarts by the trio, Welkin thanked them for taking the time to lead her on her _‘freshman orientation,’_ and then headed directly to one of the features that she had enjoyed most, the main library.

The most interesting stuff is generally always on the upper level, Welkin thought, so when she spotted a spiral staircase, she made a beeline for it. She roamed the shelves of books, reading titles and occasionally pulling a book to thumb through it. This place is a reader’s wet dream, she thought in amazement. Her lifelong appetite for books, of all kinds, but particularly those of a more esoteric nature, could certainly be slaked in a place like this.

* * *

Welkin was at the end of an aisle, near a window, engrossed in a tome on the curative properties of herbs, when she suddenly felt a shiver run up her spine. She glanced to the open end of the aisle, but there was no one there. She ignored a second tingling sensation, merely muttering to herself a quote that seemed appropriate, _"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."_

"You Muggles always _were_ inordinately fond of Shakespeare." 

The sudden voice almost made her drop the book she was holding. When she turned again, there was a man silhouetted in the dim lighting at the end of the aisle.

As he slowly walked toward her, sporting a snakehead cane and an oily, crooked smile, she recognized him. What the hell was Lucius Malfoy doing here? More importantly, she had the uneasy feeling that he had deliberately followed her upstairs. Her overly active imagination began to attribute all sorts of sinister motives to the man, spurred on by Snape’s recent admonition to her never to allow herself to be alone with him.

Determined not to show the panic she felt, Welkin was too well aware that she was trapped in an area that seemed to have less foot traffic. There was no easy way past him, unless Malfoy stepped aside to allow it. She folded the book closed and held it against her chest in an unconsciously defensive gesture as he approached.

Lucius halted his steady pace in front of her. "Miss Cooper, isn’t it?" He prised one of her hands from the book and lifted it to his lips in a courtly kiss that made her skin crawl. 

"Charmed to finally be able to meet you," he said as she hastily snatched her hand back. "I so admired your..." he looked her body up and down suggestively before he continued, "…spirited dancing at the Yule Ball."

Welkin shelved the book abruptly, feigning a confidence she didn’t completely feel at the moment. "I have to meet Severus. He’s expecting me," she said, hoping, but not expecting, the bluff would work.

"Oh, surely not just yet," he said in his smarmy way, still blocking her path. 

"Get out of my way," she said in an imperious tone, glaring at him. 

Very deliberately, Malfoy placed the head of his cane on one of the shelves, balancing it, and began to slowly remove his gloves. 

"You really _should_ have someone of quality as a point of comparison to Severus." 

He laid the gloves on the shelf next to the cane. 

"Someone of the Wizarding aristocracy, such as myself, for instance." He reached a hand out as if to touch her face. She slapped it away.

"Don’t try to do that again," she warned, her voice low with anger. 

"Snape can’t do the things I can for you, my dear. Neither materially nor...sexually." 

He took another step and though she’d vowed to herself she’d stand her ground, Welkin inadvertently backed up in reflex and was now against the window, no room to maneuver.

"One night in my bed and I assure you, all thoughts of him would be gone from your mind, and you would crave only my body." He smiled at her in assurance.

"I would crave your body?" The phrase, and the claim, struck Welkin as so absurd that she forgot her situation and burst out laughing hysterically. 

As she continued her spasmodic laughter, Lucius became angrier and angrier, until his anger exploded. 

"Stop it...stop it...you insolent little..." He didn’t finish, but drew back a hand and slapped her across the face, hard. It stung like hell and the back of her head banged against the thick glass panels of the window pane.

Malfoy took advantage of her slightly stunned condition and grasped her wrists, pinioning them above her head. He forced a harsh kiss, his tongue snaking deep into her mouth, gagging her before she could manage to jerk her head to the side and break contact.

"Get off me, you motherfucker!" she yelled, struggling against him. "Get off me or I’m going to _kill_ you!" 

The more she struggled against him, the angrier Welkin became at being restrained. Enraged, she kicked and cursed and at last connected with her teeth, biting into his upper arm so that he yelped in surprise and let her go.

"You’ll pay for that," he promised ominously, holding his injured arm, where blood now spotted his expensive shirt. 

Lucius stepped back, grasped the head of his cane and slowly pulled out his Wizard’s wand, which was sheathed inside. He pointed it directly at her. 

Welkin wiped his blood from her lip and prepared to die.

* * *

Snape finished marking the last of the student essays, and put down his quill. As usual, Miss Granger had done the most thorough and meticulous job on hers. He had deducted a few points simply because it annoyed him that all of her other instructors constantly touted her so highly. No wonder she was so insufferable, spouting off incessantly in a continuous stream of information, when she would be better served to listen to someone else. 

Her major sin, however, was in her selection of Harry Potter among the limited group of friends she had made in Gryffindor. Her unfortunate choice of friends aside, the girl did have a very fine mind, he had to admit to himself, even if she was an annoying know-it-all.

Snape closed her composition book and placed it precisely on top of the stack of others he had completed. 

Right on schedule for lunch, he thought. How strange it seemed to have a regular lunch engagement again, after all these years. He rose and straightened his jacket, checking the cuffs of his sleeves to straighten them as well. 

Allowing his lips to curl slightly in satisfaction, Snape left his office to go in search of Welkin. Hopefully, she had not created too much of a disturbance in the last several hours without him.

* * *

"Father?" 

Welkin’s reprieve from imminent death came in the form of Draco Malfoy, the son now silhouetted at the entrance of the aisle as his father had been earlier. 

"Father?" The teen sounded apprehensive, as if unsure whether to interfere in his father’s business.

Draco had been awaiting his father’s arrival to transport him home for the holiday break, and was returning some reading material to the library, when he had seen him follow the Muggle woman up the stairs. 

Although he still respected his father, Draco had been exposed to his womanizing proclivities early of age and too often, his allegiance often torn between his father, and his long-suffering mother. As the years progressed, nothing had changed in the predictable pattern, except that his mother stopped crying at night in her bedchamber, seemingly resigned to her errant husband’s ways.

Yes, Draco respected his father, but he also respected Professor Snape and he loathed the idea of losing status in his eyes. This Muggle woman, useless though she might be, belonged to Snape, and if harm came to her at his father’s hands, Draco’s status as favored student might be in jeopardy. 

So, after a time, Draco had mastered his trepidation about interrupting his father, and had followed him up the stairs to the upper level.

"Father," he repeated a third time. "I’m ready to go home." 

Lucius hesitated at the sound of the boy behind him, his anger still seething on his face, but slowly started to lower his wand. 

Welkin dashed past him, almost knocking Draco over as she made her escape. She took the stairs two at a time, anxious to put as much distance as she could between her and Malfoy as quickly as she could.

Snape was at the bottom of the stairs, looking around for her, and she nearly ran past him, if he hadn’t caught her as she stumbled on the bottom two steps.

"Let me go...I’ve got to get out of here!" 

"What happened to you?" Snape insisted, taking in her disheveled appearance. There was a small cut on her bruised left cheek, and dried blood on her chin.

"It was Malfoy. We had a run-in," she said, breathing deeply to calm herself down. 

She briefly told him what had transpired upstairs, and saw the anger building in the depths of his black eyes. "If it hadn’t have been for Draco..." She trailed off as, down the stairs came Lucius Malfoy, Draco following. 

Snape pushed her behind himself and faced Lucius, his eyes glittering coldly.

"Whatever she told you, it was she who approached me," Lucius claimed haughtily.

Snape glared at him menacingly. "You’re a liar, Malfoy, and you presume too much on our friendship. There will be no repeat of this incident, or you will surely suffer the consequences." 

Lucius looked startled, understanding the intent behind Snape’s threat, even if Welkin didn’t.

"I have no further interest in her," Lucius lied again. "Come, Draco." He started to walk away, hesitated, and with a malicious smile, turned back to hurl one final thought at Snape.

"After all, she’s no Lily Evans, is she?...and never will be." 

He strode off dramatically with Draco, satisfied that the flinch Snape gave told him that there would soon be trouble in Severus Snape’s tenuous little paradise.

* * *

Back in the Potions Lab, Welkin watched as Snape expertly selected and mixed the ingredients for a healing balm for the cut on her cheek, even though she protested that it really just stung a little and she didn’t need anything.

"Did you see Malfoy’s face when you told him he was a liar?“ Welkin laughed. “That look was absolutely priceless!” Welkin laughed loudly at the deliciously satisfying memory of it, then flinched when her face hurt. “His ring must have cut me when he slapped me, the motherfucker," she growled. 

Snape raised an eyebrow at her use of the vulgar term, but was secretly amused by her colorful descriptions of Lucius Malfoy.

"Crave his body, my ass!" She laughed again, even though doing so the first time nearly got her killed. "Pitiful little Muggle me kicked his motherfuckin’ ass," she crowed.

"I thought you said that he nearly killed you," Snape reminded her archly, as he dabbed the salve on her cut. 

"Well, yeah, he did, but I kicked his ass _before_ he almost killed me," she sniffed. "Hey, that stuff burns," she protested, as he dabbed a little more on her cheek.

He handed her a hand mirror and she watched, amazed, as the cut completely healed in the space of a minute. 

"Damn! That stuff’s better than Vick’s VapoRub!

"Oh, I guess you don’t have that here," Welkin said, noting his puzzled expression. She explained that Vick’s was a cheap topical ointment, primarily used for colds and congestion. "When I was little, we were so poor that, no matter what was wrong with you, some Vick’s was usually part of the prescription to fix it."

"You were poor?" Snape asked, the shadow of some personal recollection crossing his face.

"Not destitute...there was always food and a roof over our heads, and money to go to school, but absolutely, positively nothing you could ever remotely call a _‘luxury’_. 

Welkin put down the mirror and regarded Snape seriously, continuing her monologue.

“That’s one of the reasons Malfoy disgusted me so much, when he bragged about what he could give me financially. He has absolutely no notion how little that means to me. I don’t think he’s even capable of conceiving of someone who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his wealth. He’s kind of pathetic, really. I’d feel a little sorry for him, if he wasn’t such a goddamn motherfuckin’ son of a bitch," she concluded matter-of-factly.

Snape actually laughed. A short, gasping, quiet explosion of a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. 

A strange expression came over his face as he stared intently at her. "I do not think I have ever met anyone quite like you," he mused quietly.

"I know I’ve never met anyone like _you_ at all. We don’t have Potions Masters where I come from. You’d better get a better pickup line than that, Professor. I’m not the kind of woman who can be had for a few honeyed words and a jar of Vick’s.” She waved a hand at him dismissively, then pretended to change her mind. “Well, okay, but only if it’s a really BIG jar."

Snape smiled his small, almost undetectable smile. 

"Oh, what the hell then," Welkin relented. "Let’s just do it and you can owe me the jar of Vick’s."

"This morning you appeared to wish me to harness my libido," he reminded her, "and now you wish to go back upstairs?"

"Who said anything about going upstairs? This lab table looks pretty sturdy to me." She slapped her hand on its surface with a couple of resounding whacks for emphasis. 

"Lock the door," she said, looking at him with a dreamy, lustful expression. 

Snape pointed at the door and uttered the locking charm without breaking eye contact.

* * *

"Who’s Lily Evans, Severus?" Welkin asked as they were getting dressed again later. 

He was silent, ignoring her question, as he buttoned himself back up. 

"Why did Malfoy insult me by using her name?" Welkin persisted with the subject, even though she sensed it was a sore point with him.

"Lily is...was...no one of concern to you!" he snapped. 

They finished dressing in silence.

* * *

"Who is Lily Evans?"

Welkin was standing in Albus Dumbledore’s office asking him, after all attempts at distracting herself from the question failed.

_Lily_...he should have seen this coming. Dumbledore sighed. "Have you asked Severus?"

"He won’t talk about her." Welkin looked at him expectantly. 

"Lily was a classmate of Severus’s when he attended Hogwarts as a student. She died in a tragic circumstance."

"And Severus was in love with her," Welkin surmised. 

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed simply, even though he had promised Severus he would never reveal this.

"He’s still in love with her, isn’t he?" 

"Would this be disturbing to you, if it were true?" Dumbledore asked. He looked as if he were analyzing her.

"The man I’m in love with is in love with a dead woman, and you ask if this _disturbs_ me?" She looked at him as if he were a hopeless idiot, and she wanted to strike him for having the audacity to be one.

"You love Severus?" Dumbledore continued probing. "You are sure it’s not just a strong physical attachment?"

"I suppose it’s my fault you would think that’s all that it is, I put such an emphasis on sex sometimes. But I do love him," Welkin assured him. "More than anything. I guess there's no point in trying to deny it anymore."

"I presume you haven’t told him this, or you would not be here questioning me now. Do you not find it peculiar that you can tell _me_ that you love him, but cannot tell _him?_ Apparently, you have even had some difficulty in admitting it to yourself."

Welkin opened her mouth to say something, looked confused, looked annoyed, closed her mouth again, then turned and swiftly strode out of his office without speaking again.

“Excellent,” Albus observed to Fawkes the phoenix, when they were alone again. “I’m really quite good at this, don’t you think? Perhaps I should put out my shingle as a Wizarding matchmaker.”

Fawkes squawked his agreement.

Perhaps it was time to bring Severus in for another conference, to provide a little gentle prodding concerning Miss Cooper. Hopefully, the subject of Lily Evans hadn’t derailed things too severely.

Love, Dumbledore thought - the most powerful and most mystifying emotion of all - and perhaps the unifying force and best hope of survival for both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds.

* * *


	6. The Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin avoids Severus and introduces Charity Burbage and Fred and George Weasley to the wonders of her contraband bottle of Jagermeister. Snape is goaded into action by her behavior, and by Albus, the spritely master manipulator.

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, Welkin studiously avoided running into Snape, and since she had very little appetite for food, avoided the Great Hall at suppertime altogether. The thought of sitting next to Severus made her stomach a little queasy anyway, knowing how awkward it would be, at least for her.

She wandered the hallways, took another trip back to the library, since it had been de-Malfoyed, and eventually ended up back at her room, where she threw herself on the bed, cried for awhile, then lectured herself harshly for crying. 

She contemplated the problem of what to do if Severus showed up tonight, expecting hot Wizard sex from her. _Who was she kidding with that, 'if he showed up' shit? Of course he would show up expecting sex. He showed up every night expecting it, and getting it._

Welkin was not in the mood to have an _‘honest conversation’_ with him about what was bothering her, and she certainly didn’t feel like arguing about it. The only logical solution, she decided, was to evade the issue in every way, at least for tonight.

"I need a drink," she announced to herself. 

"You need lots of drinks," she answered herself. There it was. Snape had officially pushed her over the edge to crazy. She was talking to herself.

Opening the chifforobe in the corner, she retrieved her bottle of Jagermeister, her gold standard of intoxication, and went in search of a drinking companion.

* * *

Charity Burbage, teacher of the Muggle Studies curriculum at Hogwarts, heard rapping at her door and opened it to find Welkin Cooper standing there, hugging a large green and orange bottle, which was festooned with a stag.

"What are you doing tonight?" 

"Well, I didn’t have any particular…" 

"Good," Welkin said, grabbing her arm and pulling her out the door. "Come have a drink with me."

Charity had approached Welkin during the Yule Ball about the possibility of her being a guest speaker for her class at the beginning of the next term. It was to be a sort of Q & A session on Muggle culture with her students, and Welkin had tentatively agreed, contingent on whether she was still at Hogwarts after the first of the year. Welkin figured this meant Charity owed her one.

"Where can we go that we won’t run into a lot of other faculty?" Welkin chose her words carefully, not wanting to admit that she was trying to avoid Snape.

"Most of the students have already gone home for the holidays. Perhaps the Gryffindor common room would be quiet. I don’t expect there would be many people there."

When they arrived, that appeared to be true, with just a smattering of students dotting the large room here and there in clusters, and no faculty members at all. Welkin chose a table close to the fireplace and extracted two shotglasses from her pockets, placing them on the tabletop with the green bottle.

"This really would be better ice-cold, and I wish we had some beer. I usually like a beer for a chaser."

"I can’t do anything about the beer," Charity said apologetically, "but I certainly can about the temperature of your bottle." 

Charity called over one of the older students, who was relaxing at a table fairly close to them. "Could you make this bottle ice-cold, young man?" she requested. It would give him an opportunity to practice his skills.

"Jagermeister," he grinned, recognizing it immediately. "I’ve heard of it. Where did you get that, Professor Burbage? They don’t have it in Hogsmeade."

"I’m the guilty party who brought in the contraband," Welkin said. “I’m one of those big, bad Muggles your mother probably warned you about. Can you help us get it really cold?" 

He grinned again at her description of herself. His mother actually had warned him about Muggles when he was younger, not that it usually did much good what she warned him about.

"Do I get a taste?" he bargained. 

"Well, okay, but you have to get your own glass. I only have two," Welkin told him. 

He pulled out his wand and executed a charm over the bottle to cool it until the surface of the glass bottle was nice and frosty. 

"I’ll be right back. Don’t start without me," he said, hurrying back to his table, where he retrieved his water glass, and his identical twin brother, also carrying his glass with him expectantly.

"What are your names, boys?" Welkin asked, waving away Charity’s protests at Welkin’s apparent intentions to pervert these two youths of Hogwarts with their first taste of demon Jagermeister.

"Weasley… I’m Fred… and I’m George," they grinned, sharing the introduction. 

Welkin paused in pouring her first round, and what she was intending to be the boys’ only round. "Is Ron your little brother then?"

"Lit-tle brother," they grinned in unison again. God, how Ron would hate that. "Yes, he’s our lit-tle brother," Fred confirmed.

Welkin motioned to everyone to take up their glasses. "Alrighty then, I usually shoot the first round, and then sip subsequent ones. You may do that if you like, Charity, but I’m strictly a shooter tonight… and you absolutely _have_ to shoot this first one.” 

Charity stared at the unfamiliar brown liquid in her shotglass, looking puzzled.

“You do know what shooting a drink means, don’t you?” Welkin asked her. 

“I’m not really sure,” Charity admitted.

“Je-zus Christ on a bicycle!” Welkin exclaimed at her innocence. “It means you drink it all in one gulp. Just follow my lead.

"What shall we drink to?" Welkin considered. "To family, near and far," she decided.

"To family," they repeated, clinking glasses before downing the dark elixir. Charity sputtered a little and put her hand to her mouth, grimacing. "What’s in that?" she asked, looking a little ill.

"A little essence of God," Welkin said, smiling.

* * *

Welkin had finished her fourth shot, while Charity was pretending to slowly sip from her second shotglass. The Weasley twins had begged and pleaded so charmingly that Welkin had given in and apportioned them each a second shot. 

“But that’s it! I don’t want Dumbledore on my case. I promised him I wouldn’t _‘fraternize with the students to their detriment’_ ,” Welkin quoted him. She hadn’t been sure exactly what he had meant when he said it, but it had been awfully funny to her. 

Welkin leaned back in her chair and grinned. She was starting to feel a great deal more relaxed.

"My lips are starting to tingle. That’s a good sign," she announced, running her tongue over them experimentally. She poured another shot for herself and started to top off Charity’s glass, but Charity blocked it with her hand, in alarm.

"Not much of a drinker, are you, Sweet Charity?" Welkin observed, before downing her fifth shot. 

"Mmmmmmm…” Welkin closed her eyes with a beatific smile on her face. When she opened them, Charity had the odd impression that their color had changed, becoming a deeper green with little flecks of gold.

"Sweet Charity, did you know they wrote a musical about you?" Welkin asked.

Before Charity could answer, Welkin suddenly launched robustly into an a capella version of the song _Big Spender_.

The Weasley twins grinned at one another. Whether they got more Jagermeister or not, this was getting highly entertaining.

* * *

Forty minutes earlier, unnoticed by Welkin or the others, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had entered the common room together, taking up residence at a table across the room, and had been watching their every move.

"Is she letting those boys drink?" Minerva asked, sounding slightly horrified. 

Just then, Welkin started to sing at the top of her voice. She jumped up from her chair and twirled it around, straddling it at first, and proceeded to act out the entire song. She was surprisingly agile for someone who should have been in a Jager-induced stupor by now. She finished, standing on the seat of the chair and twitching her hips from side to side, her vocals rising to an impassioned crescendo. When she was through, she dropped back down into her seat and took up her glass again.

Fred and George applauded wildly, as did others in the room. "Bravo! Bravo!" the Weasleys shouted theatrically. 

Fred quickly reached to pour her another shot, and George pushed it towards Welkin across the table. "Have another."

"Don’t mind if I do, boys." She grinned and stood up, hefting the newly-filled shotglass. 

"Those who are about to die, salute you," she solemnly intoned the ancient gladiator’s salute. She threw her head back and let the precious licorice-tasting elixir slide down her throat. 

"That’s six!" the Weasleys shouted in unison, and poured themselves a drink, as Welkin was occupied in her own little world now, and no longer seemed to mind.

"Six?" Minerva continued to fuss. "Oh, Albus, shouldn’t we put a stop to this?" 

"No, I don’t think so," Albus replied calmly. "I don’t think any real harm is being done, and she has her reasons for her behavior, I’m sure," Albus said, looking accusingly at Snape. "Besides, I’m rather enjoying the floor show."

* * *

Snape was doing a slow burn inside. He’d spent the afternoon and early evening looking for Welkin, to no avail, until he began to suspect that she was deliberately avoiding him. And now, to find her here, drinking with Weasleys, singing and dancing, and Albus intimating that her behavior was somehow _his_ fault, was entirely too much to bear with good grace.

* * *

Welkin dedicated shot number seven to one of her holy trinity of singers, _Aretha, Queen of Soul_ , and dancing around the table, she sang _Chain of Fools_ in a husky alto. 

Belting out the lyrics, hips shaking energetically in time to the music in her head, she alternately sang to each Weasley, who were both on their feet now, dancing with her. 

Fred and George had reasoned that, despite the bracelet on her wrist staking his claim, Snape probably wouldn’t want to chance the repercussions from killing students, just because they were dancing with Welkin.

* * *

Despite his outer façade of calm, Snape was livid. Only Albus seemed to realize it. Dumbledore wondered what it would take to wipe that resolutely impassive look off of his face? 

"An impressive voice, wouldn’t you say, Severus? Miss Cooper appears to have a _number_ of unexpected talents." 

Snape glared at him, but said nothing to his expert goading.

* * *

Welkin noticed that she seemed to have collected a small, but very appreciative audience, all having moved closer to their table, except for a group across the room. 

What a wonderful time she was having. The _‘Holy Jager’_ had worked its magic and Welkin was officially in love with everybody on the planet. Who were those killjoys not joining in? She squinted at them as a Weasley thrust another overly full shotglass into her hand. That looked like…

* * *

Snape saw the precise moment that Welkin spotted him at their table. He gave her a warning frown. She stood poised for a moment, considering the glass in her hand. She looked at his disapproving face, defiantly threw back her head, and downed shot number eight. 

"That’s eight!" the Weasleys shouted, and everyone applauded again.

"Someone really _should_ do something about her, Albus," Minerva insisted. 

"Perhaps someone will," Albus smiled at Snape, who was practically squirming in his seat now.

Welkin swayed a little on her feet, considering what should be her next selection. "Another," she demanded. She stared directly at Severus and downed the ninth shot as soon as it was poured. "That’s nine!" the Weasleys shouted.

Welkin’s personal record was ten shots, which had won her a plethora of Jagermeister paraphernalia at the bar where the contest was held, much to the admiration of a surprisingly gentlemanly group of biker guys, who offered to pay her tab, and intimidated the other customers so much that Welkin got to play anything she wanted on the jukebox all night long. Welkin hadn’t even known there _was_ a contest that night. Maybe she would break that record tonight, if she didn’t pass out first.

Welkin slowly launched into Chaka Kahn’s _Tell Me Something Good_ , taking several steps towards their table and extending an arm dramatically to point right at Snape.

_You ain’t got no kind of… feelin’ inside…_  
I got somethin’ that’ll sure ’nuff set your stuff on fire…  
You refuse to put… anything before your pride…  
What I got… will… knock… all your… pride aside…  
Tell me somethin’ good… tell me that you love me… yeah…  
Tell me somethin’ good… tell me that you like it… 

"You should have told her about Lily, Severus," Dumbledore whispered to him. "Are you really going to let…"

Snape was already on his feet, rapidly approaching Welkin with long, quick strides, a furious look on his face. If he had that look on his face when he was coming down a hallway at Hogwarts, it would have emptied it immediately of both students and staff.

"That will be _quite_ enough!" he enunciated crisply, grasping Welkin by the wrist. "You are coming with me… _now!_ " 

It was rare for Snape to raise his voice under any circumstance. Unfortunately, Welkin didn’t know that, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered to her if she did. She was not about to let him order her around like a servant. 

“You’re not the boss of me! You let me go! I’m not going _anywhere_ with you, you bastard!” Welkin insisted stubbornly. “I’m staying here with my friends!”

Unfortunately, despite her bravado, Welkin didn’t have either magic, or the upper body strength, to prevent Snape from rudely aborting her pleasant evening of intentional dissipation. 

There was total silence from everyone else in the room, as Snape jerked her along behind him like a misbehaving child. The only sounds were from Welkin, still yelling her protests at him, all the way out the door.

A collective burst of laughter filled the air when they were gone.

Even Minerva couldn’t help laughing at what had just happened. In all the long years that Minerva had worked with him at Hogwarts, she had rarely seen Severus Snape look so agitated and behave so brashly in public as he had done in the past several days in the company of their unwilling guest in the North Tower. 

It was starting to become very obvious to Minerva that Snape’s interest in the exasperating Miss Cooper might be much more than sexual. That poor girl, Minerva thought. If Snape was besotted with her, how could she possibly know what she was letting herself in for? 

Hopefully, the woman would have the good sense not to trifle with Snape. He was not the sort of man who would take rejection well. If she had declared herself to him, Welkin Cooper had better be prepared to follow through with a serious commitment. Snape was not the sort of man who would settle for anything less.

* * *

Once out of earshot of everyone else, Snape berated Welkin all the way back to her room, which shut her up in a hurry. 

When she seemed reluctant to enter her room with him, he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way, kicking the door shut behind him and dumping her angrily in the middle of her bed.

"Whatever were you thinking, making such a spectacle of yourself?" he demanded, scowling at her darkly.

"Not at all like your precious Lily, I’m sure!" Welkin shouted at him before she had a chance to think about it and censor herself. "Your _perfect_ , precious Lily, who you’d trade me for in a _heartbeat!_ " She spat the words at him ferociously.

"Is that what this is all about?" 

Snape finally realized that Dumbledore was right. He should have told Welkin about Lily the minute she had asked him. He had almost made the second biggest mistake of his life.

"Oh God, I can’t… _stand_ … this!" Welkin sobbed as she rolled over on her side and started on a crying jag. "I’m jealous… of a poor… dead woman!" She cried even harder. "I’m a _terrible_ person…"

Seeing her so distraught drained the anger from Snape. Welkin’s crying was unnerving, and he wasn’t exactly sure what he should do about it. Soothing an hysterical woman was a situation that was definitely far outside his personal experience.

He finally moved to sit beside her, and pulled her into his arms, hoping this would have a calming effect. It didn’t. She cried even louder. 

Very well, he thought. If it was truth about Lily Evans that Welkin wanted, she would have it.

"It is true," he admitted, in his low, silky voice. "I will always love Lily." 

Welkin’s heart sank at his use of the word always. How could she ever hope to compete with a dead woman, who would always remain perfect in his mind and heart.

"I will always love Lily," he repeated. Severus drew a ragged breath and hoped that what he said next would be well-received, since it had taken him far too long to say it to her. "…just as I will always love you."

Abruptly, Welkin stopped her sobbing. She raised her head to blink at him. "Say… say again?"

"I shall love you, dearest Welkin, always," Severus repeated quietly. 

"Oh, Severus, I love you too, more than anything in this world!" she finally admitted.

* * *

Welkin woke up feeling like the happiest woman alive, and remarkably hangover-free, after her run to the bathroom in the middle of the night to bring up half the Jager she had consumed. 

She had thrown up copiously, brushed her teeth and tongue mercilessly, gargled some mint-flavored mouthwash and then slipped back into bed, snuggling against her Severus happily as his arms enfolded her again with nary a sarcastic comment to her.

Now, still encircled by his arms, she lay against his chest and listened to his steady breathing. Outside the window she could see the swirl of snowflakes against the wind. It was only two days before Christmas, and barely a week since she’d come here. It was amazing how much things could change forever in so short a time.

His hand stroking her bare shoulder and arm let Welkin know that Severus was awake. 

Severus felt his desire for Welkin stir again but quelled it. He contented himself with continuing to stroke her arm and feeling her soft, warm body pressed against his.

"Good morning, sweetness," she told him. "It’s snowing. We’re going to have a white Christmas." Welkin had decided to call him sweetness, after the idiom, sweetness and light. She thought he might appreciate the irony attached to it.

Welkin had been consistently peppering her conversation with _‘we’s’_ ever since his declaration of love to her last night, and Snape felt a little thrill each time she used the term. Part of a _‘we’_ was not something he had ever expected to be, since his love for Lily had been denied so many years ago.

“I should like to discuss our plans for solidifying the commitment we have stated to each other,” Snape announced suddenly. 

“What do you mean, solidifying it?” Welkin asked, knowing full well what he meant, but not expecting this subject to have come up quite so soon.

“Do not play coy with me, Welkin. I am referring to matrimony.” 

“I’m not being coy, I’m being floored that you would even bring it up this early. We only met each other four days ago. Why would you want to get married? Everything is just great the way it is. Let’s not mess with it. It would be a bad idea.” 

Welkin quickly changed the subject. "How do you usually spend Christmas, Severus?" 

"I have a house at Spinner’s End. I am sometimes there through the holidays and generally always during the summer."

"When are we leaving for Spinner’s End?" Welkin perked up with interest. 

Snape hesitated before responding. "The house is in a state of disrepair," he said. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable here at Hogwarts."

"I don’t care if it’s not perfect looking," Welkin insisted. "When do we leave?" She sat up in bed and smiled at him eagerly.

That was probably true, Snape thought, since she certainly didn’t seem to care that he was not perfect in appearance. Dumbledore probably would not concern himself with him taking Welkin, since he would be at her side constantly.

"By midday then," he relented, as he found himself doing more and more often with her. "You can pack a few things after breakfast." 

"Breakfast? I’m…" 

"Starving," Severus finished for her wryly. He started to rise from the bed, but she pulled him back, pushing him down and straddling atop him. "Not… just… yet…" She smiled at him wickedly.

* * *

"Late again," Dumbledore noted, as Snape seated Welkin. Apparently, whatever conflict had existed over Lily had now been righted.

"It’s my fault this time," Welkin conceded, but managed to restrain herself from elaborating this morning.

"Perhaps after breakfast we can talk more about our thoughts on how to return you to the Muggle world," Dumbledore tested the waters.

Welkin paused with a forkful of food halfway to her mouth and looked at him directly. "Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m not leaving now. I’m staying here."

When Dumbledore said nothing, she added, "I _can_ stay here, if I want to, can’t I?"

"That too would have to be arranged with the authorities, if that’s what you truly desire."

"That’s what I truly desire," Welkin said, looking at Severus. Her free hand slid across the table to grasp his and give it a little squeeze. 

"That is also what I desire," Snape added. He desired a lot more than that, but was finding Welkin unenthused about what he had in mind. 

"At any rate, Severus and I are going away for the holidays today, so it’ll just have to wait," Welkin said.

"Of course," Dumbledore regarded them both. "There are also other things we need to discuss before you leave, Severus." 

Snape nodded, a brief shadow of a much less pleasant thought passing like a dark cloud over his face, before his attention returned to Welkin.

* * *

"I can’t believe that she’s able to move, much less shovel in the breakfast the way she’s doing," Fred Weasley observed incredulously to his two brothers and Harry. 

The Weasleys' father was due to pick the entire clan up before noon. Harry, as usual, had been invited to spend the holidays with his adopted family. Hermione had left the day before to spend Christmas with her family in the Muggle world.

"Snape’s a lucky man to have a woman like that fancy him," George added. “Do you see the way she’s looking at him? What does she see in him?"

"Maybe she likes it rough," Fred grinned at his twin. "Did you see the way he jerked her out of there last night?"

"Stop it. You’re making my head hurt," Ron said, trying to dispel the horrendously disturbing image of Snape having sex with _anyone_ from his mind.

"Do you think she polishes his knob? Can’t you just picture that?" Fred launched into his best nasally Snape imitation. _"Miss Coo-per… I find your technique in this procedure sadly lacking. You will stay after class and I shall attempt to elucidate to you the finer points of… polishing my wand."_

Harry laughed despite himself, because Fred sounded just like the pompous bastard. 

Ron clamped his hands over his virginal ears to shut out the disturbing prattle, as his brothers seemed ready to talk about Miss Cooper and sex the rest of the day.

"Do you think she’s a screamer?"

* * *

“She has declared herself to you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, and I to her, but she balks if I broach any suggestion of confirming our commitment through the traditional ceremony. I do not understand her reluctance.” Snape paced in front of Dumbledore’s desk, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, regarding the floor with a frown of displeasure. 

“Some women, as well as men, can be reluctant to relinquish their freedom to another person. Although I believe that her feelings for you are genuine, Miss Cooper is quite independent. I think it might behoove you to try coaxing her, rather than pressuring her, Severus. While you are at Spinner’s End, you can work on softening her resolve,” Albus said. “Perhaps by the time you have returned, I will have a solution to your dilemma worked out, if you have not already done so.”

Albus looked at Snape over the rims of his glasses. “Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked him.

The look in Snape’s eyes told him everything he needed to know even before he spoke the words. 

“I am positive. I wish to take Miss Cooper as my bride.”

* * *

Author's Notes: Song attribution - _Tell Me Something Good_ , by Rufus and Chaka Kahn - released 1974, written by Stevie Wonder, ABC Records

* * *


	7. Christmas Comes to Spinner's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape takes Welkin to Spinner's End for the holidays, where they eat, drink, and make merry in Severus's favorite chair. We learn that Snape has misled Welkin, yet again, in his continuing efforts to bind her to him.

* * *

Welkin quickly crammed what she estimated would be a week’s worth of clothing and undies into her leather satchel, along with some toiletries and her toothbrush. 

"Is there electricity?" she asked Snape, who was already dressed in his cloak, and was seated in a chair by the window, watching her scamper about. 

"Yes." 

She added her hairdryer, her cell phone, and charger, and zipped the satchel shut. Selecting a leather bomber-jacket from the chifforobe, she slipped it on, and zipped it up, pocketing some matching brown gloves.

"I'm ready. How are we getting there? Not by broom, I hope, because I’m afraid of heights." 

Snape had explained to her that Spinner’s End was in a Muggle community, but she knew little else about it, including how far it was from their current location, and how long it would take to get there.

Snape picked up her satchel, and grasped her right hand in his left. "You must prepare yourself for an unsettling sensation. Try to empty your mind of thought as best you can, and follow me."

Luckily, due to special dispensation acquired through Dumbledore, for reasons he could not relate to Welkin, Snape was able to use the Portus spell to create Portkeys whenever he wished, as well as use Apparition within the grounds of the school. Snape stared at the wall, said some words which Welkin didn’t understand, and the wall shimmered a bit, and glowed an odd blue color. He stepped towards it, and into it, pulling her along with him.

Temporarily blinded by a flash of light, Welkin had a disorienting sensation of falling, and an uncomfortable, queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. It felt a little like the way she had arrived here, except this time she was prepared, and the pressure in her head wasn’t as severe. As quickly as the sensation began, it ended, and Welkin found herself standing outside in an alleyway, between two buildings.

Snape looked pleased. "You did very well. It does not always work well with Muggles," he noted, leading her out of the alley, into the street, and up to his front door. 

_The house is sort of gloomy on the outside, but looks sturdy enough,_ Welkin thought. Some of the Muggle neighbors watched with interest as Snape unlocked the door physically, and intoned the words to remove the protective spell in a voice too low for them to hear, then ushered the unfamiliar, auburn-haired woman inside.

"I see why we arrived in the alley," Welkin said. "Your neighbors are pretty nosey."

"I do not often have visitors," Snape said. "No doubt, they are intrigued," he added with obvious annoyance.

It was very chilly inside, and Snape removed his cloak, and immediately set about building a fire in the fireplace, as Welkin removed her jacket, and began to look around. Snape had never minded the shabby surroundings before, but was suddenly concerned what she might think about them.

The sitting room was small and cluttered, with tall bookshelves loaded with leather-bound books, which dominated the room, and seemed to be the only things not covered in a thin layer of dust. Most of the furnishings were shabby-looking, definitely in need of re-upholstery, but as Welkin tried the chair she assumed he sat in most often, she found it acceptably comfortable.

She got up and wandered into the kitchen, another small room, just off the sitting room, where she was delighted to see a refrigerator humming to itself, and a stove that looked as if it hadn’t been used in ages, but hopefully was also serviceable. _Electricity! How I've missed it at Hogwarts,_ she realized. Magic was lovely, she was sure, but electricity was definitely a Muggle form of magic.

Welkin tried the spigots in the sink, and was relieved when the water didn’t look the least bit murky. One of the cabinet handles dangled loosely on one side, which was nothing she couldn’t fix with a screwdriver in a few minutes. 

She opened the door to the refrigerator hopefully—and found absolutely nothing. Not one crumb or morsel of food was inside. "Severus." She called out to him, assuming that he was still busy building the fire. 

"Yes?" he said, standing directly behind her, making her jump.

"Don’t sneak up on me like that! There’s no food," she said, unnecessarily indicating the empty fridge to him. "We’ll have to go to the grocery later. I can’t cook Christmas dinner without food."

"Christmas dinner?" He blinked at her as if totally unaware of the holiday tradition.

"Yes—I’m going to cook you a traditional Cooper Christmas Dinner, and then—after you’ve eaten until you’re lethargic, bloated and helpless—I’m going to have my wicked way with you under the Christmas tree."

"We do not have a tree," he informed her, sounding uncertain whether the dinner would still be forthcoming in that circumstance.

"Then—I guess that goes on the list too," she said succinctly as they walked back into the sitting room together, where his fire was already starting to warm up the room. 

_Time to warm him up a little,_ she concluded, moving on to less pedestrian concerns. Welkin pushed him down into his chair and sat in his lap, her arms around his neck. 

"It’s not much of a house," he said glumly, now definitely embarrassed of the surroundings.

"It could use a little TLC," Welkin admitted. "Much like its owner—but it has definite possibilities—also much like its owner." 

She captured his chin in the palm of her hand and kissed him, her tongue probing against his lips, until they parted to accept her. His hands caressed her back, and then slid down to hike up her skirt, so that he could turn her to straddle him in the chair, her knees apart, resting on either side of his hips. She felt his hardness growing against her buttocks, and it excited her. Her pussy lubricated in anticipation, and she raised herself enough to reach between her legs. Her fingers fumbled, as she tried to open his trousers, and Welkin cursed in frustration. Snape reached to help her, opening himself to her questing hand, which she eagerly thrust into his trousers to grasp hold of him firmly, eliciting a deep groan from him. 

As she drew his already stiff penis out, she lifted herself a little more, to allow herself to see her hand wrapped around it.

"I love the feel of your cock in my hand," she whispered huskily to him, eliciting another deep groan from him. "I love the way it twitches and throbs in my hand. It makes me so wet. I'm so wet—even though my pussy is on fire."

Snape trembled with suppressed excitement. Her deliciously vulgar words were bringing him to the brink too quickly. He needed to be inside her soon, or it would be too late.

She raised herself a little higher, and reached her unoccupied hand between her legs to pull the crotch of her panties to the side. "Feel how wet I am for you," she breathed in his ear, rubbing the head of his cock against herself, until it was glistening with her lubrication, and his own. She inserted just the head of his cock, and used her muscles to clinch it tightly, sucking it a little further inside her.

"Enough!" Snape groaned, thrusting his hips up sharply, to force more of himself inside her. 

"Oh, yes. Fuck me. Please, fuck me!" 

She lowered herself, now that he was inside her, so that his rapid thrusts could reach deeper. Less than a minute later, she was at the brink of coming. 

"Oh, Severus, I’m going to…" 

Welkin came with a series of cries that were not as loud as a scream, but were certainly highly vocal. She had barely recovered from her own orgasm when she was urging him on to his. 

"Severus, my darling, come for me. I want to feel your cock explode inside me." 

With cursing that at last rivaled Welkin’s own propensity for vulgarity, Snape obliged her.

"That was a spectacular welcome to Spinner’s End," she confirmed approvingly.

She smiled at him, waiting for him to recover fully before dismounting, and settling back into his lap. “It sure beats an over-cooked casserole from the neighborhood welcome wagon,” Welkin asserted.

“Were we to wed, we could welcome each other home in this manner without compunction,” Snape observed, slipping the subject of matrimony into their conversation yet again today. He was not one to ignore an offered opening from her of any sort. 

"Without compunction? I don’t feel the least bit guilty about what we’re doing. We can do it ‘till the cows come home, _without_ being married," Welkin countered, and changed the subject. “Well—The chair’s been christened. I suppose we have a week to get around to other areas of the house," she mused aloud. 

_Where’s the bedroom, anyway?_ she wondered. She couldn’t seem to see a door anyplace in the room that might lead out of there, other than to the kitchen.

"By the end of the week, everything will smell like your... pussy," Snape said, getting comfortable with the use of the unaccustomed word. 

He usually called it a quim. He remembered how shocked he had been, when he had first overheard his father use the word, on the rare occasion when his parents hadn’t been arguing.

"Are you saying that would be a bad thing? What’s wrong with my pussy?" Welkin asked in a teasing voice.

"Nothing at all. It works admirably well, from what I’ve been able to ascertain," Snape told her.

The clock chimed two, interrupting their post-fucking banter. 

"If you still wish to go to the green grocers today, we should freshen up," Snape suggested. 

"Of course," Welkin agreed. "Where’s the bathroom? Don’t forget to put your dick back in your pants. We wouldn’t want the neighbors thinking they live next to a couple of perverts, now would we? Even though they obviously do."

* * *

"What do you mean, nobody’s ever cooked for you before?" Welkin asked, as she was putting away their grocery purchases from the bags on the kitchen table.

"No one, except my mother." 

"Well, I’m definitely _not_ your mother. That's too kinky even for me. How old are you, Severus?" Welkin was curious, although usually, ages didn’t interest her.

"I will be thirty-five next month." 

"In January? When’s your birthdate?" 

"January 9th." 

He was Capricorn. She should have guessed. Welkin had Cancer rising, and Capricorn was on the cusp of her 7th House of Partnerships and Marriage. Her mind automatically hesitated a little over adding the designation of ‘Marriage’. She’d never really pictured herself with a Capricorn, and always thought that part of her chart just didn’t ring true—up until now.

"Why do you ask?" Snape queried her.

"No reason, really. I’m several years older than you, is all. I’m thirty-eight, and my birthday is in the middle of June." 

Snape thought that she looked younger, perhaps thirty or thirty-one. She certainly acted much younger than her age.

"Gemini," he said, surprising her. He seemed like the type who would most certainly scoff at astrology.

"Yes. Do you know astrology?"

"After a fashion. It is not a particular interest of mine. Have you studied it?" 

Snape really thought that most of it was largely guesswork, based on imprecise computations. But if Welkin was interested in it, he could pretend to have a perfunctory interest in it, as well. 

"Many years ago I was pretty engrossed with it. I’ve had a number of unorthodox interests over the years," Welkin acknowledged.

"Such as?" He encouraged a more full disclosure from her.

Snape wanted to know as much as possible about this woman. Perhaps something she said would assist him in his quest to convince her to join with him as his wife.

"Oh, witchcraft and demonology, the Dark Arts, vampires, reincarnation, prophesy, Druidism, UFOs, pornography, serial killers,” she rattled off part of a long list. “If it was unusual and guaranteed to mark me as even more of a weirdo, I was usually interested in it." She laughed at herself. 

"You studied the Dark Arts?" He sounded surprised. 

"After a fashion, as you described it. I couldn’t find any of the really old texts about it that were supposed to exist, and I couldn’t think of anybody I hated or despised enough to do terrible things to, so I never actually tried any of the incantations that I _did_ find. After a while, my interest in trying it out kind of fizzled out. I still think it’s pretty fascinating stuff, though."

Welkin regarded the rather massive turkey she had unpacked, hoping that they hadn’t overreached with the selection of such a large bird. She noticed Snape looking at her in a strange way.

"What?" 

"I have studied the Dark Arts... and I have done terrible things to people." 

He confessed it to her quietly, so low that she almost couldn’t make it out. He had an apprehensive look on his face as he studied her, almost as if he expected her to denounce him now, and storm out of the house. 

He need not have worried. Welkin didn’t care about things he might have done in his murky past. She only cared about the man she saw before her, in the here and now.

She stopped what she was doing, laid a hand on his shoulder, and looked into his eyes. "Are you still doing those terrible things?" she asked simply.

"No," he answered. His eyes searched hers for any sign of revulsion. 

"Then, it doesn’t matter to me." 

Welkin kissed him, and ran a hand through his long, dark hair, as if soothing a frightened child. 

"I love you just as you are, Severus—the good Severus, and the bad Severus—forever and always." 

_What had happened to him in his life, and what had he done,_ she wondered, _to make him think that he didn’t deserve to be loved?_

"Now, find me a pan to put this monster turkey in," she ordered, deciding this was not the time or the place to delve deeper into his past. "I’ll store it in the fridge, and let’s go see about setting up the tree."

* * *

"Maybe that corner," Welkin suggested. 

Severus dutifully used his wand, and the Mobiliarbus spell, to move the evergreen tree to a new location in the room for a fourth time.

"No, too close to the fire. I think I liked it better in that corner. It'll be easier to see from the couch." 

Severus sighed, and moved it back into the corner where it originally started. 

"Perfect," Welkin said. 

"I am overjoyed," Snape said snidely. 

"Don’t revert to being an asshole, or there'll be no hot chocolate for you later," Welkin warned. 

Snape wondered if she was using ‘hot chocolate’ as some sort of code phrase for sex, and decided to curb his normal mode of expression a bit, just in case.

"Now, where are the lights?" Welkin asked.

Snape openly smirked at her. 

"You _do_ have lights don’t you? Son of a bitch! Why didn’t you say something when we were getting the tree? What’s the point of a Christmas tree without lights? You really…"

Snape waved his hand, and intoned the proper spell to light the tree. The illusion of an abundance of multi-colored lights appeared in a swirl and settled on the surface of the tree, illuminating it perfectly. There was even a lighted star at the top.

"Gorgeous! Perfect!" Welkin exulted.

Welkin stopped her fussing, and hugged him. 

"You’re a very handy man to have around at times, Severus Snape," she complimented him.

"I shall try to remember that—the next time that you call me arsehole," he said wryly.

* * *

Since she had committed herself to cooking an entire Christmas feast, Welkin logically decided there was no obligation on her part to cook tonight. She pulled out her cell phone from her satchel, and called out for pizza. 

"Is there anything you wouldn’t like on it?" she asked Snape while she was on hold, listening to a particularly lackluster version of _We Wish You A Merry Christmas_.

"I shouldn’t think I would like deadly nightshade, but other than that, I have no opinion, since I’ve never had pizza," he drawled. 

Welkin shrugged, and ordered a large, with everything except anchovies on it.

"You really have led a sheltered life, haven’t you? You've never had a woman cook for you, never had pizza… What else have you never… Oh, my God! You weren’t a virgin the first time we had sex, were you?"

"No," Snape said emphatically, clearly annoyed by the suggestion that he might have been. "I was _not_ ," he added drily.

"Oh, I didn’t really think so. You were much too good at it. Don't be annoyed." Welkin smiled in recollection. _He really had been great._

"Yes. I believe that I was." Snape agreed with her rather immodestly. Her compliment had diffused his annoyance.

"Damn right you were! But, lord, I can’t believe how much racket I had to make, before you finally came to my room—and then, I had to slap you, so that you wouldn't leave again right away. You just weren't very cooperative at all—at first."

Snape looked surprised and then frowned. _Was she implying that she had actually lured him to her room intentionally in order to seduce him that first night?_

"Oh, sweetie, don’t look so disillusioned. I really wanted it to be your idea, but I was afraid that if I waited for you to decide to unlock my door and make a move, that I’d still be locked in that bedroom until hell froze over. You were a hard man to get going, but once you did—you were unstoppable! You should be flattered, really. It just shows how much I wanted you. Do you forgive me for tricking you a little?" 

Welkin looked at him, pretending to be contrite for the horrible deception that she had played on him. Never mind that he had reaped the benefits of her small deception too. He was pretty stubborn and probably wouldn't be inclined to see it that way, she suspected. Better to be apologetic, whether she meant it or not.

Snape continued frowning at her, not sure if he approved of the notion that he had been her prey, instead of she being his. _This was not the way it was supposed to work—was it? Still—The fact that she desired me is also quite stimulating. Is that not acceptable then, that she should pursue me?_ Normally, he did not approve of forwardness in women. But her logic was undeniable. He probably wouldn't have chanced the likely humiliation of rejection by approaching her first, he admitted to himself.

"You do forgive me?" Welkin said, fabricating a positive response to her question. 

"I do not believe that I said anything like…" Snape began his response, but was cut short again by Welkin.

"Good—I’m glad. Now, let’s not belabor the silly issue," Welkin suggested, smiling brightly at him. "We both can agree that everything worked out the way it should have. Come sit by me on the couch, and we can get in some quality snogging time before the pizza arrives."

* * *

Welkin: "You don’t _need_ a knife and fork to eat pizza, Severus. Just pick it up with your _hands_. For God’s sake… I knew I should have ordered Chinese."

Snape: "I am not proficient in the use of chopsticks."

Welkin: "Why am I not shocked?"

Snape: "This is surprisingly edible for something with so many elements involved. Perhaps I shall request this of the house-elves when we return to Hogwarts."

Welkin: "They're not elements—they're toppings. What are house-elves? Sounds like an infestation..."

* * *

Snape: "How did you make this elixir?" 

Welkin: "It’s not an 'elixir'. It’s homemade hot chocolate, and you watched me make it, so you should know what’s in it."

Snape: "Your back was to me, and I became somewhat preoccupied with the movements of your posterior."

Welkin: "You dog! You were staring at my ass the entire time, weren’t you? Ten points deducted from Slytherin, for not paying attention in class!"

* * *

Welkin: "This elixir is _fabulous_." 

Snape: "It is not an elixir. It is brandy. You watched me pour it, several times, so you should know what it is." 

Welkin: "Oh, yeah—I guess I did. But your back was to me, and I got distracted staring at your ass. Turn around and bend over again, will ya?" _(She giggles happily.)_

* * *

Welkin: "This chair smells just like my pussy!" _(She dissolves into hysterical giggling.)_

Snape: "That will be _quite enough_ brandy for one evening." _(Severus removes the bottle.)_

Welkin: "Let's sing Christmas Carols!"

Snape: "I think not..."

* * *

Welkin: "The tree is gorgeous. Thank you, Severus. It’s been a lovely evening, hasn’t it?" _(She leans against him, playing with the buttons on his jacket.)_

Snape: "Truly… lovely." _(Severus touches her face lightly as the clock chimes midnight.)_

Welkin: "Is it over?" _(She sounds wistful.)_

Snape: "Shall we go to bed and see?" 

Welkin: "Oh, yes, please... Let's do." _(Severus carries her up the concealed stairway to bed.)_

* * *

Snape woke the next morning to find that Welkin had risen first, and found the passageway to downstairs on her own. He came downstairs, wearing his long, dark, dressing gown, and was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee brewing. 

The sitting room had been straightened, dusted, and removed of clutter. The kitchen was likewise in order, and the worn floor was freshly cleaned and shining. The loose cabinet handle had been put back into place, and tightened.

Welkin had apparently been as busy as a house-elf this morning, while he slept. Wearing jeans and a red sweater, she was humming Christmas tunes, as she finished cooking what appeared to be a breakfast large enough to feed at least six people.

When she turned and saw him, she smiled and came around the table to kiss him good morning. 

"I didn’t know how you might like your eggs, so I made scrambled and fried. I was just getting ready to come get you."

Welkin fussed over him after he was seated, heaping far too much food on his plate: eggs, bacon, chipolatas (which she called sausages), something she called buttermilk biscuits, with strawberry jam, coffee and orange juice. 

Snape had never felt so pampered. He could not remember his mother ever treating his father like this. But then, they were usually arguing, and food wasn’t always plentiful in the Snape household. His and Welkin’s marriage would be nothing like that, he vowed to himself.

Welkin served herself and sat down at the kitchen table with him, chatting with him as they ate, innocently unaware of Snape’s continued ruminations on how to secure her pledge to join with him in wedlock. 

When they were finished, she asked if he would mind doing the dishes, while she started preparing some of the next day’s dinner items ahead of time. "That way, I can just pop them in the oven when it’s time, and I'll be free to spend more time with you."

They talked some more, as Snape finished the dishes, and Welkin whirled about the kitchen like a little domestic dervish, concocting various pans of ingredients, which she then topped with aluminum foil and placed in the refrigerator. 

Snape went upstairs to bathe and get dressed, then he sat contentedly at the table with another cup of coffee, reading the _Daily Prophet_ , while Welkin finished topping the pies: cherry, lemon meringue, and raisin.

One would have thought she was expecting guests. There seemed to be an excessive amount of food attached to this traditional holiday presentation. When she started talking about a return trip to the grocers, to secure the ingredients for a Jam Cake, Snape put his foot down. 

"Certainly not. There is already enough food in that refrigerator to feed the House of Slytherin. Come, sit down with me," he ordered, drawing her down onto his knees.

"You have flour on your nose," he observed somewhat sternly, as if it was an infraction of some sort. He reached up to brush it away. 

Unlike his, Welkin’s nose was small, and delicately upturned. Were they to have a child, he thought, he fervently hoped it would inherit that from her. For all he knew, she might already be with child, from one of their frequent couplings. Perhaps then, she might be more amenable to his wish for marriage. 

They had discussed birth control early in their trystings, at Welkin’s insistence, and Welkin seemed to be under the mistaken impression that he, being a wizard, could simply execute a charm on her to ward off pregnancy. He did not bother to disabuse her of that false notion.

"What are you smirking about, now?" Welkin asked suspiciously. "I don’t think you’ve been listening to a word I’ve said in the last five minutes."

* * *

"This turkey’s an asshole!" Welkin fumed at it. "It absolutely refuses to brown properly. I’m sure it’s done on the inside, but it just looks so… _anemic_. Could you hit it with a little something from that wand of yours, to crisp it up a little?"

Amused by her agitation over something so minor, Snape drew his wand, pointed at the recalcitrant bird, and Welkin yelped with alarm as a small fireball shot from the tip and enveloped the turkey, setting it aflame. 

"Damn it!" she yelled at him, grabbing a dish towel to frantically slap out the flames. "I said, zap it—not incinerate it!" 

Flames out, she regarded the bird with concern, and was surprised to discover that it was not too charred by the traumatic experience. 

"It's perfect! I can’t believe it. I thought we’d be having cremated remains of turkey for Christmas dinner."

While Snape carved the turkey, his stern expression reminding her of _Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street_ , Welkin finished doing the place settings, and opened the wine. 

"Merry Christmas, Severus," she wished him, giving him a kiss. "You look so handsome. Thank you for dressing up."

Welkin, dressed in a long, red, low-cut velvet gown, with satin spaghetti straps, and classic ruby and diamond earrings, looked breathtaking to him. He was tempted to forego the meal and devour her instead, but he didn’t want her to think that he didn’t appreciate all the effort she had put into preparing the feast. 

She must have known what he was thinking, for she pushed him away and insisted that they be seated.

The repast was, as he had come to expect of Welkin’s cooking skills, delicious. He particularly favored the cornbread dressing, prepared with liberal amounts of chopped giblets, onion and celery, and seasoned with sage and other herbs. Severus treated himself to three helpings of it, Welkin noted with satisfaction.

By the time the pies came out of the oven, Snape was feeling more than a little overstuffed. 

"At least help me eat a piece of the lemon meringue pie," Welkin insisted. "It’s my very favorite." 

She sat on his lap as an inducement, and fed him small bites of the tart confection until it was gone. He felt as if he might need to loosen some buttons soon, or burst.

"Many of the things you seem to favor are very tart," Snape observed. 

"Much like you are," Welkin teased. "Aren’t you glad that I wanted to take a bite out of you? I still do." 

She nibbled at his neck, and swept his long, dark hair behind his ear so that her tongue could trace the outline of it. He shivered in anticipation, knowing that she had no intention of stopping there.

Welkin slowly stood up and walked away, her hips swaying provocatively. When she got to the doorway, she gave a half turn, looked over her shoulder at him, and slowly lowered one shoulder strap, smiling suggestively in a teasing way.

Snape stood up and moved to follow her, but she stopped him just inside the doorway, pushing him against the book-lined wall.

"Just… watch." 

The room was dark, the flickering firelight too dim to provide much illumination, but when she moved to the Christmas tree, the lights played subtly over her features. Her back to him, she turned to look over the other shoulder and slowly let the other strap drop, then turned away and began a little swaying dance, her arms raised over her head in a display of pagan ecstasy. As her hips swayed, the dress slid and slipped lower, working its way down her body until her rounded buttocks were half-exposed. She turned to face him, her hands splayed across her exposed breasts, and with a final shimmy, let the dress drop to the floor.

"Stay there," she insisted, as he started to move towards her again. 

"Take off those trousers," she ordered, now completely nude, except for her red heels and her earrings.

He quickly complied. She was massaging her breasts with her hands as she watched him. 

"Take off the shorts," she demanded. 

Snape slowly let them drop, and his cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach with an audible sound.

Welkin placed one foot up on the ottoman and moved her hand to her pussy, delicately massaging and tugging at the lips. She stared at him. 

"Now—I want you to touch yourself for me. I want to watch you."

Snape was a little shocked that Welkin was actually suggesting that he masturbate in front of her for her pleasure. A bit reluctant to fulfill this latest request, he hesitated, until she slowly slid a finger inside herself and started to pleasure herself with it. Then he quickly grasped himself and once again complied with her wishes. Her eyes were glued to his hand on his cock, and she was breathing hard as she continued to pleasure herself.

Less than a minute later, with a low growl, she rushed at him and kissed him passionately. Going to her knees, she replaced his hand with her mouth, swirling her tongue around him as she drew him into her mouth. She sucked and licked and teased his cock with such obvious enthusiasm that Snape was soon spending himself, despite his best efforts not to do so. 

The standing orgasm was so intense that his knees nearly buckled. Smiling up at him, Welkin licked him clean.

Anxious to pleasure her as much as she had him, Snape lifted her to her feet and carried her in front of the fireplace. 

Laying her down, he raised her legs off the floor and threw them over his shoulders, a favorite position of Welkin’s, he knew from experience. 

With the same precision and thoroughness which he was accustomed to give on everything else he did, Snape began to go down on her with a vengeance. Never had Welkin had oral like this, not even from her first, who admittedly, had been pretty damn good at it. Welkin buried her hands in his dark hair and held on for dear life. 

When she finally came this time, it really was with a scream so loud that one would have thought that she was being attacked by a dementor. 

As Snape crawled somewhat weakly up to lie beside her, Welkin slowly rolled to her side and wrapped her arms around him. 

"Wow! Where did you learn to do that? No—On second thought—I don’t think I want to know. Just promise me that you won’t ever do it to anybody else." She kissed him, tasting herself on his lips. "Who would have thought it? _Severus Snape, Pussy master_." She laughed with delight. "I’ll have to get you a sign made for your door when we get back to Hogwarts."

It was rather a clever play of words on his job title, Snape thought, but he sincerely hoped that she was joking about the sign.

* * *

"What do you mean, it was embarrassing?" Welkin asked as they lay in bed later that evening. "Honestly, Severus, sometimes you come off as such a prude. I don’t see anything at all embarrassing about masturbation. Everybody does it. I can guarantee you that those little hellions of yours in Slytherin are doing it every opportunity they get, and some of them are probably thinking about me when they do. Hell—Some of them are probably thinking about _you_."

"I only meant that you wishing to watch me seemed a bit unorthodox and was somewhat embarrassing to me. It was not meant as a criticism to you." 

He reached for her and Welkin peevishly scooted away from him in the bed. "Oh, no… I wouldn’t want to _embarrass_ you any further tonight with my unseemly and disgusting desires. Goodnight, Professor Snape," she said in an excessively formal tone.

“Welkin, I am most certainly not embarrassed by your desire for me. You are being deliberately obtuse concerning what I meant.”

“Obtuse? So now, I’m not only disgusting to you, I’m not very bright as well, apparently. Well, I’m bright enough to know what obtuse means, anyway, and you can just take that condescending attitude of yours, and let _it_ keep you warm tonight.”

They lay there silently in the dark for a few long minutes, until suddenly, Welkin felt something cold touch the back of her leg. 

"You keep those ice-cold feet of yours to yourself tonight," she demanded. "Stay on your side of the bed. I don’t want you anywhere near me."

"You are being extremely childish, Welkin, for a woman of your age," Snape observed. 

"Stuff it," she responded childishly. 

There was another long silence. 

"I could pleasure you orally again," Snape suggested, quietly playing his ace in the hole. 

After a few more silent minutes had passed, and Welkin had time to consider his offer, Snape suddenly felt one of Welkin’s feet rubbing against the side of his leg. Victory was his. He smiled in the dark and rolled towards her in the bed.

* * *

The rest of the week went by much too fast. 

Welkin took Snape to the local movie theatre to see _Interview with the Vampire_ , which had just come out, and tried to get him to sing _Sympathy for the Devil_ with her on the walk back, but he less than politely declined.

"Vampires do not behave in that manner," he informed her, when she asked how he’d liked the movie. "I do not think that you would be quite so enamored of them, were you to meet a real one. They are not as subtle or gallant as the ones depicted in your Muggle films. You would find them rather tedious, I'm afraid."

"Wanna bet?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, grinning. 

Snape rolled his eyes at her in turn, and she broke into another verse of the song, dancing around him as he kept walking, and drawing strange looks from the other people walking home that evening. 

Welkin’s sense of public decorum was sadly lacking at times, but Snape was becoming more tolerant of it every day that they spent together, and no longer attempted to restrain that aspect of her personality. Why fight a losing battle when there were so many other pleasant ways to spend his time with her, he reasoned.

They went for daily walks in the snow in a wooded area fairly close to them. 

Welkin tried to do little things to improve the house, but she decided that most of the heavy-duty stuff would probably have to wait for summer.

In the afternoons, Snape would read to her from books from his shelves, with her curled up in his lap. 

Always—They made love—until practically no nook or corner could claim to have been untouched by their vigorous joinings.

On New Year’s Eve, they had a light supper at five p.m., and were in bed by ten p.m. with a bottle of champagne chilling in a makeshift ice bucket, and a small platter of rumaki on the nightstand for a tasty nosh. 

The only fireworks they saw at midnight were within the confines of their room, between them, and that was just fine with them both. Afterwards, they talked in low tones about the return to Hogwarts the next day. Severus was expected at a staff assembly to prepare for the return of the students a few days from now, and still had a mysterious meeting with Dumbledore which he declined to discuss with her. As long as it didn’t involve any more dead girlfriends, Welkin decided that was perfectly alright with her.

* * *


	8. A Modest Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore talks to Welkin and Severus about her future in their world, and Welkin finds herself forced to make a decision about it much earlier than she expected.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore greeted them solemnly upon their return to Hogwarts the next day. He had summoned both of them to his office, as well as Minerva McGonagall, and Minerva arrived at about the same time as they did.

"Would you mind visiting for a bit with Minerva, Welkin? Severus and I have some private matters to discuss," Dumbledore said.

"Of course not," Welkin assured. 

As the door closed, and they sank into the overstuffed settee in the anterior of the office, Welkin gave Minerva a tentative smile. She sometimes got the impression that Minerva didn’t quite know what to make of her, and possibly even disapproved of her being here.

"Do you dislike me for some reason?" Welkin asked with no pretense of trying to make small talk.

"Of course not," Minerva protested. She was taken aback by Welkin’s bluntness. 

"Then, why do I get the distinct impression that you don’t like my involvement with Professor Snape?"

"It’s not that I dislike it. I am somewhat apprehensive of it," Minerva admitted. 

"Why?" 

"Because, I am unsure whether you understand how destructive this might be to Severus, should you prove to be less than serious about your relationship. You seem a bit flighty to me," Minerva told her, equally bluntly.

Welkin considered the unflattering criticism. 

"Well, in some ways I may seem flighty to you, but I do love Severus, and I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt him," Welkin claimed.

"You would never do anything _intentionally_. That is exactly what concerns me. You apparently lack forethought and intention in many of the things that you do," Minerva critiqued.

Minerva had struck a nerve. People had called her flighty or inconstant in one way or another her whole life, and she was thoroughly sick of it. Welkin no longer wanted to know why the woman behaved so coolly towards her. She just didn't like her, obviously. She thought she lacked depth. She probably also thought that Severus would be better suited if he was paired with a witch, Welkin suspected. 

"You know, it's really none of your business, is it?" Welkin informed her without her customary smile. "All that I really care about is what Severus thinks about me. I don’t think I have to explain myself—or prove myself—to anybody else around here. I don’t intend to try."

Minerva was hurt at Welkin's obvious misunderstanding of what she had said to her, but decided to let it lie, since she could tell that Welkin was becoming angry. She probably wouldn't listen to an expanded explanation from her at this point.

The door opened much sooner than Welkin expected, diffusing the awkward moment. Dumbledore asked them to join him and Snape in his office. 

Whatever the two men had discussed must have been pretty heavy-duty, Welkin thought, as they entered the office. Even more color than usual seemed to have drained from Severus’s sallow complexion, and he had his worry frown firmly in place.

"Have a seat, ladies. We have a matter of great importance to discuss, Welkin. It concerns you and your future here," Albus said. 

When they were settled, he continued. "As I have mentioned previously, we have discovered that your ancestry does, indeed, include some traces of witch lineage. However, over the centuries, invitations to enroll children from that line, either at Hogwarts or at a comparable academy of witchcraft and wizardry in your United States after your ancestors settled there, have gone unanswered. As such, the Ministry refuses to recognize a request that you be allowed to stay at Hogwarts, on that basis."

"I don’t _care_ what…" Welkin began to protest, cutting in angrily as she immediately leapt to her feet to argue her case. 

Snape gave her a stern look that silenced her before she could continue her tirade.

"As I was saying—the Ministry refuses to allow you to stay on _that_ basis," Albus patiently continued. "There is, however, one other condition under which they will allow it."

Severus swiftly moved to stand beside her. 

"The only circumstance under which they will consider allowing you to stay—would be if you and Severus were to join in marriage. They have been informed of your relationship through... various sources," Albus said, somewhat obliquely. "They have agreed that it would be inadvisable and unjust to separate the two of you if you were to marry."

"I would not be averse to that proposal," Snape announced quickly, looking at Albus as if that settled the matter.

"Not _averse_ to?" Welkin raised her voice, obviously not pleased with his response. 

_Was this the same man who had spent half the Christmas holiday trying to change her mind about matrimony?_

"Oh, my goodness. Forgive me for swooning, but I’m just swept right off my feet by that incredibly romantic proposal. It just makes me feel so very _special_ ," she said sarcastically.

Snape blinked at Welkin with total lack of understanding of why she seemed so upset.

"What kind of crap is this? I thought you’ve said all along that I couldn’t leave because the Obliviate Charm wouldn’t work? Now, they’re kicking me out without it? That doesn’t add up," Welkin told Dumbledore, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Anyway—how dare they try to force some kind of… kind of… shotgun wedding!" Welkin sputtered. "Fucking bureaucrats! They’re the same everywhere you go!"

"You do not... wish to marry me? You wish to leave?" Snape asked, sounding both incredulous and hurt. 

Welkin stopped sputtering at them all and looked up at Severus, realizing that she had inadvertently stuck her foot into a large pile of dragon dung, emotionally speaking.

"It would seem that your concept of _‘forever and always’_ means something very different to you than it does to me," Snape accused coldly. The hurt in the depths of his eyes was quite apparent to her as he walked away from her.

"It isn’t _that_. It’s… it’s… it’s just that I don’t like feeling so forced into it," Welkin stuttered, trying to explain why she was so upset. "It’s not that I _don’t want to_ marry you... someday." 

Her weakly added 'someday' seemed to upset Snape even more. _If only he would just look at me. I could explain it better if we were alone_ , Welkin thought.

She pleaded silently with Severus to understand her reluctance. She looked to Albus and Minerva for some kind of support, and the _‘I told you so’_ look that Minerva gave her told her she wasn't going to get it. She was out there all on her own for this one. Even worse, they were both obviously siding with Severus.

"I’m afraid that you must decide—without delay. No more evasions. You must decide now, Welkin. Decide what is most important to you. Is it your freedom, your pride—or the love that you say you have for Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

No longer wearing the smile that he usually bestowed on Welkin, Dumbledore folded his arms and stared at her over the rim of his half-moon glasses, obviously not inclined to discuss the matter with her any further.

Welkin looked helplessly at Severus, who was standing at the edge of Dumbledore’s desk, his own arms folded and his eyes averted from her. Her heart ached that she had hurt him so deeply. _When am I ever going to learn to think before I speak?_ She chided herself for her impulsive nature. 

Outnumbered and upset by Severus's stony silence, Welkin wordlessly considered what was truly more important to her, just as Albus had asked. What was it that she was truly most afraid of losing?

"No contest—I choose Severus," she at last announced, almost as much to her own surprise as to theirs.

Welkin didn't really like to think of what had just happened as coercion, so she chose instead to consider it simply an unanticipated hastening of the inevitable. Even if control of the timing of their engagement had been seized from her, at least she could still show them that someone in this room knew how to make a proper proposal. 

Welkin walked slowly towards Snape and dropped to one knee in front of him. She grasped him by the hand and smiled up at him in what she hoped was her most charming and convincing manner. 

"Severus Snape, will you do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?" 

She cocked her head and one eyebrow hopefully at him. 

"As well as the rest of you, of course," she added.

A tiny smile quirked the corners of his lips, and Snape drew her to her feet without hesitation. 

"The great honor is mine," he replied smoothly, as if he had been assured of the outcome all along. 

"Yes... I would not be averse to that proposal." He repeated his earlier galling statement, to Welkin's chagrin. But then he did something quite unexpected.

The very private Severus Snape kissed her to seal the deal—right there in front of Dumbledore and McGonagall —just as he had under the mistletoe in front of everyone the night of the Yule Ball.

“The ceremony will take place within the week. Severus, Welkin, congratulations on your impending nuptials,” Albus said. He gave a sigh of relief. This had not been as easy a task as he had originally thought that it would be.

“So soon?” Welkin asked, sounding a little shocked and surprised again. “Back home, it takes months and months to plan.” She thought she would have more time to get used to the idea.

Minerva was finally smiling without reserve at Welkin. 

"Well, then, I suppose that we have a wedding to start planning—immediately," she told Welkin.

Welkin was quiet for once. Why did she suddenly feel like a sheep being led to her own shearing?

* * *


	9. A Very Brief Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin tells Dumbledore her theory of how she came to be at Hogwarts. Hermione takes Welkin on a shopping expedition to Hogsmeade, in search of a wedding gown. Welkin tries to remain chaste until the wedding.

* * *

"Is it true, Miss Cooper?" 

Hermione was the first of the Hogwarts students who dared to approach her and ask directly. It was opening day of the term at the school, and talk had been swiftly circulating that the unthinkable had happened. Hell had frozen over, and Professor Snape was taking a bride.

"Is what true, Hermione? And it’s Welkin, remember?" 

"Is it true that you and Professor Snape are going to be married?" 

"Well, I guess it had _better_ be true. Otherwise, I think I’ll have to give this ring back." 

Welkin held out her left hand, where on the third finger there now resided a sparkling emerald and diamond engagement ring. The large emerald-cut stone in the center was flanked by two circular diamonds, set on a band embellished with art nouveau-style floral designs at the sides. Welkin had fussed at Severus for spending too much, but she did so love the ring, with its antique look. Still, on a teacher’s salary, she realized that it was a definite extravagance.

"Oh, it’s beautiful!" Hermione exclaimed. "Is the wedding soon?" Hermione had already heard rumors that the nuptials were being rushed, and wanted to confirm them.

"Necessity apparently dictates, sooner than I would have anticipated," Welkin said. Or wanted, she thought to herself, but didn't express that part to Hermione. "Otherwise, the _delightful_ people at your Ministry of Magic are poised to give me the old heave-ho, and toss my happy ass out of here. It’s Monday, here at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall. I would have preferred something a little more simple, but…"

"It’s tradition," Hermione finished for her. 

"Yes, so I’m told by Minerva. She’s a very persistent woman," Welkin said, choosing her words carefully in front of one of Minerva’s students. "How I’m supposed to find a wedding dress that soon, I have no idea."

"Classes don’t actually start until day after tomorrow. I could take you to Hogsmeade tomorrow," Hermione offered, a little too eagerly. "I’m sure you could find something there."

"Could you? That would be fantastic!" 

This would save her from having to spend more ‘girl time’ with Minerva, an activity that wasn’t currently high on Welkin’s list of fun and frivolous things to do.

"We can go after breakfast. It’s going to be such a lovely wedding," Hermione sighed, sounding uncharacteristically romantic for a girl with such an academic bent. At least, Welkin thought so. The girl seemed to be going all mushy at the thought of the wedding. Perhaps it was fueling her fantasies about Ron Weasley, who seemed to be thick to the fact that Hermione had eyes for him, even though Welkin had noticed her interest in him right away.

* * *

"Miss Granger." Professor Snape called to her, diverting her from her companions. "I understand that you are accompanying Miss Cooper into Hogsmeade this morning."

"Yes, sir. I am." 

"I would like you to take this." He handed her a black velvet pouch. "See to it that she gets whatever she desires. _Anything_ that she desires," he emphasized. "Should more payment be required, I am sure that my credit is good at any establishment in Hogsmeade. Simply mention my name." 

Snape strode away quickly without waiting for her assurance that it would be done as he wished.

"What did _he_ want?" Ron asked, when she rejoined him and Harry. 

"He wanted to make sure that Welkin gets _‘anything that she desires’_ , and he gave me this," Hermione said, handing Ron the pouch to examine. 

Ron opened it and gulped. "It’s full of gold Galleons!"

* * *

"Don’t you have anything a little less…umm…virginal?" Welkin asked, after rejecting the first six gowns she’d been shown, without even bothering to try them on. "Maybe, something in an off-white?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, who had both tagged along for supposed moral support, but were actually just curious about this Muggle woman. What sort of person was so willing to sacrifice herself in marriage to the sarcastic, and somewhat sinister, head of Slytherin House?

The saleswoman scurried away in search of a more suitable selection for _‘Madame’_.

Welkin hated places where they called you _Madame_ , and lied through their teeth about how gorgeous you looked in everything. This establishment was the only one in town that offered bridal apparel, however, so she didn’t have any choice in the matter, pretty much like everything else in her life lately.

Ginny’s choice at that moment was to ask a very awkward question. "So, you and Professor Snape have…done it, then?"

"Ginny!" Hermione frowned at her. 

Thankfully, Welkin found very few personal questions awkward. 

"Well, of course we have. Don’t be silly," Welkin responded frankly, as she examined some strange looking items on the shelves.

"Are you pregnant?" Ginny blurted out the question for them all. 

"Good Lord, no," Welkin laughed. "It’s an entirely different kind of a shotgun wedding than that. Thank heavens for that pregnancy protection charm."

"But, there isn’t…" Hermione poked Ginny in the ribs with her elbow to shut her up.

"But, there’s no such thing as a charm for protection against pregnancy," Ginny whispered, as Welkin walked away to explore the shelves on the far side of the store. "Do you think Professor Snape lied to her?"

"That’s none of our business, Ginny," Hermione said emphatically. 

At that moment, the saleswoman returned. "We do have this lovely antique-white satin gown, Madame, although it’s a bit less modern than some of our other selections."

"I’m marrying a man who writes with a quill pen, and dresses like _Jack the Ripper_ most of the time. He's like something straight out of a Victorian novel. Something a little more vintage would be entirely appropriate," Welkin assured her. 

The girls all giggled at Welkin’s description of her intended, Professor Snape, as a man out-of-step with contemporary fashion.

Welkin turned to look at the gown and old-fashioned wedding veil the saleswoman was holding, and broke into a smile. "That’s it. That’s my dress," she announced. "Where can I try it on?"

* * *

"No, you _can’t_ see the dress," Welkin told Snape. "Not until the wedding. It’s bad luck." 

She was, at last, getting a tour of Snape’s dwelling quarters in the dungeon area of the castle, where she would be residing with him after Monday’s ceremony. The massive, wooden canopied four-poster bed was very much to her liking, and her fertile little imagination began picturing any number of activities that might be undertaken in it.

"Would you like to try it out?" Snape read her mind without the need for Legilimency, as he watched her running her fingers over the intricate carvings in the dark wood of the footboard. He gathered her into his arms in eager anticipation.

"No. No more sex, until after we’re married. I want our wedding night to be special," Welkin demurred. 

Snape crushed her against himself, and attempted to kiss her, confident that she would soon change her mind, as she always did. 

"I said no," Welkin insisted, shoving at him. "I mean it this time. Calm yourself down!"

"But, that’s six days," Snape said in protest, finally surmising that Welkin did, indeed, mean no.

"Don’t sound so aggrieved," she told him. "I’m going without sex too, you know. It’s not _all_ about you. It can be done. We just have to have a little self-restraint. You’re very good at that, remember?"

Snape scowled at her. He did not want to be good at it, in this circumstance. Why had she asked to see his bedchamber, if she had no intention of allowing him access to her?

"It will be worth the wait Monday night," Welkin purred a promise at him, as he continued to scowl at her, like a child whose favorite toy had been locked away from him.

* * *

Professor Snape’s students had been looking forward to a new, improved version of Snape when classes began Wednesday, owing to his impending marriage. What they got instead was Snape at his worst - sarcastic, arrogant and overly-exacting, demanding perfection, and heaping ridicule upon the students who failed to live up to his unrealistic expectations. Even Draco, his favorite, and other members of Slytherin House, seemed to annoy him.

By Thursday, both Snape and Welkin were demonstrably out of sorts, sparring verbally with each other at meals in the Great Hall, and other public venues all over the Hogwarts campus. The Weasley twins began to take bets on whether their nuptials would actually take place as scheduled.

By Friday, Snape had assigned so many of his students to detention, that there was a long waiting list. He was sitting in his office, morosely going over the lesson plan for his next class of intermediate level dunderheads, when there was a brief knock, before Welkin barged in. 

Her lips pursed in an uncharacteristic frown, she flung herself dramatically into the chair nearest his desk, and cursed. "Damn it all to hell!"

Snape looked at her quizzically, knowing he needn’t bother to ask. 

"I just told Albus Dumbledore to fuck off," she announced. 

Snape’s eyebrows rose higher.

"I’m beginning to think that I might have made a rather spectacular mistake about the no sex before the wedding decision," she begrudgingly admitted. "I don’t know about you, but I can’t concentrate, I’m crabby to everybody, and is it my imagination, or is every other object at this school shaped like a huge phallus? And now, I’ve told poor Albus to fuck off, just because I'm horny and in a bad mood."

"This _was_ one of your more spectacular mistakes, in a lengthening list," Snape confirmed.

Welkin ignored the insult. 

"Okay then, here’s the new game plan. No _intercourse_ until the wedding night, but anything else is fair game. How’s that sound to you?" Welkin bargained.

"Like an offer I cannot, and will not, refuse," Snape said, rising to his feet quickly, before she had time to change that mercurial mind of hers. "We have precisely thirty-three minutes until my next class. Shall we go to the bedchamber?"

"No time," Welkin said, flinging herself at him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist. "Oh, God, we’re pathetic! We couldn’t even last three days!"

* * *

"I can’t believe he gave Malfoy detention," Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione. 

"There’s practically no one left who he didn’t give detention to, the three of us included," Hermione sighed.

Snape’s Potions class students sat glumly awaiting their professor, when suddenly, the muffled sound of breaking glass came from behind the door of Snape’s office, quickly followed by the sound of a female voice, seemingly in some form of distress. "Oh…oh…OH…OH… _YES!_ " The loud affirmation was repeated at least five more times, each time punctuated by a slightly quieter, unmistakably masculine groan, before silence finally resumed.

A nervous sniggering rippled through the boys in the class, until the girls killed it with their looks of annoyance. 

All eyes were quietly glued on the office door when, several minutes later, Welkin Cooper opened it, her back to them, and paused in the doorway. "I’ll see you later, Sweetie," she called out affectionately.

Sweetie? Harry and Ron looked at one another and grinned, not daring to laugh out loud, however, since the door was still open, and Snape might hear them.

"Sorry about the glass jar with the floating thing," Welkin apologized, not exactly sure what it had been. "I hope it wasn’t something irreplaceable." She turned towards them as she closed the door, looking a little flushed, but also somehow serene. "Oh, you're all a little early, aren't you?" she asked, glancing at the wall clock. "It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?" Welkin smiled, sashaying towards the classroom door, behaving for all the world like they hadn’t heard what they’d all just heard. She stopped at Draco Malfoy’s desk. "I never got a chance to thank you, Draco, for…you know…helping me in the library." She bent to kiss him on the cheek, as his friends gaped. "Got to go! Everybody have fun." She grinned, making her escape. 

"Way to go, Malfoy!" His seatmates pounded him on the back, as if he’d just executed some particularly desirable conquest, although they had no idea what Welkin had been referring to.

At that moment, Professor Snape emerged from his office, looked a little startled at seeing them there too, and also glanced at the wall clock, as Welkin had, before slinking quickly to his desk.

Snape cleared his throat. "Before we begin today, I would like to announce that the detentions received yesterday are rescinded." He hurried over the last word, glared at them as if daring them to snicker even once, and ordered them to open their books to page 267, once again assuming the mask of the imperious Potions Master.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was at a table in the Hufflepuff common room, having a spot of tea, when Welkin suddenly appeared at his elbow.

“How did you manage to acquire the password this time, Welkin?” Dumbledore asked.

“Oh, I just know some people,” she said nebulously. “Professor, I just want to apologize to you for being so rude earlier, when I told you to…" She hesitated, searching for a more polite way to put it.

" _Fuck off_ , was what you suggested that I do, I believe." Dumbledore took a sip after blowing on his tea to cool it slightly, and regarded her with amusement. "Sit down. Would you like a cup of tea, my dear?"

"Sure, why not?" She sat down next to him, and accepted the cup he presented to her, blowing on it and taking a sip. "Sassafras?" she asked.

"Yes. You have had it before?" 

"A long time ago. My mother used to make it." 

"As did mine." 

They were both silent for a bit. 

"Professor," Welkin finally began. "Do you _really_ not know how I got here?"

"Do you think that I know something that I’m not telling you?" 

He had answered her question with a question, something he had been prone to do with her from the beginning. It had occurred to Welkin recently that the technique would be very useful, if you wished to evade giving an answer, since the conversation could always go in circles, with no real conclusions ever being reached.

"Yes. I’ve always felt like that with you. But I think I know the answer now. I've figured it out." 

"What is it that you know?" He did it again. 

"I think that _you_ brought me here. _You_ blocked the Obliviate Charm somehow, and I think you maneuvered Severus and me together, assuming that what _did_ happen _would_ happen. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you did, but I’d still like to know why you did it."

"That, I cannot tell you." 

"Then, you admit that it’s true? You brought me here, for Severus." 

Albus smiled. "Welkin, did you ever know that something was most probably destined to happen, yet wished that you might somehow be able to intervene? Wished that you could do something that might circumvent it from happening?"

"Of course, everybody feels that way about something, at some point in their lives, I think." 

"Your love for Severus - can it withstand _anything?_ " he asked, gazing at her seriously with his clear, pale blue eyes. "Will it stand firm and endure at all times in the future, should he have need of you? Will it do so, even if all others forsake him?"

"It will stand against the very Gates of Hell! That, I can promise you," Welkin said fiercely. Welkin felt a chill of foreboding at the direction their conversation had taken.

"Interesting choice of words," Dumbledore said. 

You may very well be asked to do exactly what you have pledged this day, Albus thought, taking another sip of tea. All in all, Welkin Cooper was proving to be an excellent choice in his personal bid to change the future that he saw looming ahead for Severus Snape.

* * *

Professor Snape finally dismissed class, after keeping them all thirty minutes past time. It was a punishment, they suspected, for their inadvertent eavesdropping on his private session with Welkin.

"Ex-cept…" he announced, "Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Weasley. You will each stay."

What now? Harry thought, groaning inwardly. Was he reinstating their detention, for some perverse reason only he was privy to? It would be so typical of him.

"You are aware, of course, of the wedding ceremony which is to take place on Monday." Snape hesitated, still finding it a little hard to believe that he actually _was_ getting married, then continued his explanation of why he had kept them after class. "Miss Cooper, my bride, has expressed to me that she would like to have each of you as an attendant at the ceremony. Although I would not necessarily have chosen some of you myself…" He looked pointedly at Harry. "I would like to see her wishes respected, and I would urge you each to consider your future in my class, should you choose to refuse her request," he said, his eyes narrowing ominously.

"You don’t have to threaten us," Harry said, with barely controlled anger. "We _like_ Welkin. Of course, we’ll do it for _her_." His not-so-subtle inflections let Snape know that _his_ wishes on the matter didn’t figure into the equation at all, since obviously nobody liked _him_.

The girls were much more enthusiastic than the boys, talking excitedly among themselves at the prospect of being bridesmaids. "But, Professor Snape, what will we wear?" Ginny asked at last.

"The proper accoutrements will be provided," Snape said curtly. "You will present yourselves for fitting in the Headmaster’s office tomorrow morning, immediately after breakfast. There will be no dawdling," he warned, looking at Ron. 

"What? I’m always on time," Ron protested.

Snape turned on his heel and left them standing there, as he retreated once again into the dark recesses of his office.

* * *


	10. Severus Snape Takes a Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Welkin make it to the altar with Severus Snape? Welkin copes with the ceremony, and Snape copes with a plethora of annoying wedding traditions.

* * *

"Yes, the rings arrived this morning," Albus assured Snape, withdrawing a pouch from his desk, and unwrapping it to show him. 

Snape examined both of the white-gold Celtic design wedding bands carefully, reading the inscriptions they had decided on together; inside each, in flowing script, ' _Forever and Always_ ', followed by their first names, his inside her ring, and hers inside his.

Dumbledore, who would walk Welkin down the aisle, would also stand with Snape as best man. Minerva would likewise stand with Welkin. Everything appeared to be arranged for tomorrow.

After placing the rings back in the pouch, Dumbledore poured two glasses of brandy, and offered one to Snape. "To calm the bridegroom’s nerves," he told him.

"I am not nervous," Snape said, accepting the glass. 

"Not even about the possibility that she might bolt and run at the last minute?" Dumbledore asked innocently.

Snape frowned at the older Wizard for planting the idea in his head, and assuring him of a sleepless night.

"Don’t worry, Severus. I shall deliver her to the altar for you tomorrow, even if I have to trip her myself, and drag her the rest of the way." Albus smiled and offered a toast. "To your bride." 

"To Welkin," Snape said, draining his glass nervously in one draught.

* * *

Hermione finished hooking the last of the forty small buttons that held closed the back of Welkin’s wedding gown, into their tiny loops, as Welkin put on her moonstone drop earrings.

"Something _old_ ," she indicated her dress, "something _new_ ," the earrings, "something _borrowed_ ," the Celtic design moonstone tiara from the Hogwarts Room of Requirement, to be worn with her veil, "and something _blue_." She raised the full skirt of her gown to reveal the blue-trimmed satin garter that encircled her left thigh.

"Does everything look straight?" Welkin asked her bridesmaids. Each girl looked fresh and lovely in their dusty-rose-colored satin dresses.

"You look just like a _Fairy Princess_ ," Luna said. 

Welkin had chosen a circa-1940’s gown, not quite off the shoulder, gathered and detailed through the bust with embroidery, and a few judiciously placed rosettes. The capped sleeves left her arms mostly bare. The bodice was very tight and fitted with light boning from the bustline to the waist. From the waistline, the voluminous bell-shaped skirt fell to the floor in multiple layers of fabric. Toward the bottom half of the front of the gown, was an antique appliqué of leaves and flowers in an elongated horseshoe shape, and just below that, about a foot from the bottom, a plain satin ribbon encircled the circumference of the skirt, everything in a tone-on-tone ecru white, except the pale pink rosettes at the neckline.

The gown matched Severus’s Victorian style well, and for once, she would have him out-buttoned, Welkin thought. It was going to take him forever to get her out of this dress tonight, she thought mischievously, picturing his frustration. He would get a taste of what it was like for her when she had to fumble with all of those buttons of his to undress him.

"It’s almost time," Hermione prompted her, efficiently helping her with the tiara and veil. 

As they finished, there was a knock, and then Dumbledore’s voice at the door. "Welkin? Are you ready?" Albus asked. "It’s time to begin. The Great Hall is filled." The clock chimed four, as Ginny opened the door to admit him. Dumbledore looked at Welkin in the gown and smiled at her warmly. "If ever there was a more beautiful bride at Hogwarts, I cannot recall it," he said gallantly, taking her arm to escort her.

Welkin was pretty sure that was bullshit, but it was the bullshit she needed to hear at the moment, and she was grateful for it. The closer they got to the Great Hall, the more nervous Welkin became. As they paused outside to arrange the order of the pairs of bridesmaids and their escorts, Welkin peeked into the room and was aghast. Dumbledore really hadn’t exaggerated. The Great Hall was full to capacity. A wider center aisle had been cleared for the wedding march, but the long tables at each side were full of faculty and guests, and all the students of Hogwarts stood behind the tables on each side.

"I think I’m going to be sick," Welkin said, turning pale. She looked at Albus wide-eyed, like a frightened deer. "What was I thinking? I don’t think I can…"

"Yes, you most certainly _can!_ " Minerva didn’t let her finish. She exploded in exasperation with her. Did she want to marry Severus or not? At the very least, she had thought that the woman was made of sterner stuff than this. "I thought we settled this a week ago?"

Welkin hadn’t been this frightened in a long time, even when she was fighting off Lucius Malfoy. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she had _ever_ been this frightened. Marriage was so terribly... _final_. Why couldn’t things just stay the way they were? Where was her bravery when she really needed it?

"There is nothing to be afraid of," Albus told her firmly. "Just remember that you love Severus, and he loves you. Aren’t you the woman who promised to stand against the Gates of Hell for him?" he reminded her. "A little stroll down the aisle with me should be easy compared to that." 

He presented his arm to her. She took a few deep breaths, and slowly allowed herself to be led into position.

Bagpipes began the procession of the bridesmaids and escorts: Draco paired with Luna, Ron with Hermione, and Harry with Ginny. As the couples were making their way down the aisle, Minerva folded Welkin’s veil over the tiara to cover her face, handed Welkin her bouquet of lilacs, white roses, and lavender, and left her with Albus, following the attendants and taking her own place before the altar. When Minerva was set in her place, she glanced over and smiled at Snape, who was anxiously peering down the length of the hall for his first view of his bride, as if he thought she might have fled.

The piping ended, and the traditional wedding march began. Welkin, on Dumbledore’s arm, barely heard the whispers of admiration, and assorted other low murmurings from the guests, as she marched and prayed that she didn’t trip or pass out before she got to the altar. As she got closer, she could see Severus through her veil, standing handsomely and resolutely in place. The sight of him made her feel a little better with each step. By the time she reached the altar, she had regained most of her confidence.

Albus went to stand beside Severus, and Minerva folded Welkin's veil back to reveal her face to the groom, before taking her place again, to the other side. Welkin was wearing a broad smile as she turned to face Severus.

The official from the Ministry blathered on with far too many words that Welkin was barely aware of, until finally, Severus began to recite his vows to her in his delicious, low British accent. " _I, Severus Tobias Snape, take thee, Welkin, as my wedded wife…_ " Dumbledore passed the ring to him, as Snape was saying, " _...and thereto I pledge thee my troth_." Albus gave Welkin a wink, as Snape continued. " _With this ring, I thee bind, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow_." He took her hand, and placed the ring on the appropriate finger.

Her turn - this was it - damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead, she thought. " _I, Welkin Morgana Cooper, take thee, Severus, as my wedded husband…_ "

When she came to the end of the solemn vows, she slipped the ring that Minerva handed her onto Severus’s finger, grinning triumphantly at him, that she had been able to get through this without making a mad dash for the nearest exit, which she had certainly considered doing at one point.

The official pronounced them husband and wife, and gave them leave to kiss. As if he’d be able to stop me, Welkin thought, impulsively flinging her arms around Snape’s neck as they kissed.

* * *

Ginny Weasley caught her bouquet, glancing sideways at Harry after securing it. Draco Malfoy caught her garter, flung by a very reluctant Snape.

Despite custom, Snape did not approve of such an intimate article, which had adorned his Welkin’s thigh, being dispensed to these lechers for use in what he suspected were their disgustingly prurient and salacious fantasies concerning his wife.

It hadn’t helped that Welkin had laughed at him, and told him that he was being ridiculous. She whispered in his ear. "Anyway, you know you’re the only man I want between my legs. Tonight, and every other night." 

Luckily, his jacket concealed the effects of her words on him, but her assurances didn’t help his suspicions. Neither did the fact that Draco Malfoy cockily slid the garter over his shirt-sleeve like an armband after snagging it. Like father, like son, Snape thought. He had hoped that Draco would take a different path than his father had.

Welkin sliced the first piece of wedding cake, with Severus guiding her hand, as tradition dictated. She wisely fought the urge to smear him with cake, when they dutifully fed each other. 

Someone from the _Daily Prophet_ arrived to pose them together for a wedding photo for the society page, to Snape’s chagrin. 

Snape was also less than happy when dozens of men lined up to kiss his bride. He glared his way through the indignity, until it looked as though Lucius Malfoy might join the throng. He then abruptly jerked Welkin away, on the pretense of leading the first dance.

As they danced, it was Welkin’s turn to be annoyed, as she saw Lucius retrieve her garter from Draco’s arm, wait until he was sure she was watching, then raise it to his lips to kiss it. He gave her an arrogant smirk, before placing it in the front pocket of his velvet jacket. Best not to tell Severus, she thought, gritting her teeth in anger.

* * *

Snape watched glumly, as now, what seemed like even larger hoards of men, were determined to dance with his bride. The effrontery was getting to be too much for him. Welkin was _his_ wife after all, and he was anxious to leave this tedious celebration, and get her all to himself in their bedchamber.

"Have a piece of cake, Severus," Dumbledore told him brightly, handing him a plate and fork. "Welkin said to wish you a Happy Birthday. Very fortuitous, being married on your birthday. You’ll never have occasion to forget your anniversary."

* * *

A slice of cake and three glasses of wine later, and Welkin was still being monopolized by those buffoons. Having reached the end of his tolerance, Snape navigated his way across the dance floor, and deftly commandeered his bride from her current dance partner, dancing her through the hall and out the door.

"Our guests, most of whom I did not invite, can enjoy the party without us," he told Welkin, grasping her hand. "I think it is past time to retire for the evening."

"I think that’s a great idea, oh, husband of mine," Welkin agreed cheerfully, following him quite obediently for once.

By the time they reached their quarters in the dungeon, down that long, spiraling stone staircase, Welkin was a little out of breath, because Snape was walking so fast. 

He opened the door to their private chambers, and swept her up in his arms, remembering to carry her over the threshold. He repeated the same actions into their bedchamber, then slammed the door, and lunged at her.

"Don’t tear my dress! I want to save this! Severus, please, there are buttons in the back. Just undo the buttons. Don’t _tear_ it! It will take a little patience, but…" She didn't get a chance to finish.

Snape pulled out his wand, pointed at the back of her gown, and all forty tiny buttons obediently popped out of their loops at once. He jerked the gown down to the floor, and lifted her out of it, as she hastily pulled off the veil and tiara, and flung them into the corner, kicking off her bejeweled satin slippers as well.

Snape carried her to the large four-poster bed, and deposited her there on the coverlet. "Were you planning on saving these knickers as well?" he asked, indicating her lacy undergarment. 

"No, I…" 

He tore them off, and quickly started divesting himself of his garments.

"But, Severus, I have a beautiful nightgown that I picked out especially for tonight. Can’t you just let me go get it?" she asked wistfully.

"You can wear it later," he said impatiently, now completely nude, and completely, undeniably erect. "As you can see, there is quite obviously no need for your seduction techniques tonight." He pushed her thighs further apart, positioning himself between them. "Are you ready for me, my wife?" he asked hoarsely, placing the tip of his thick, ten-inch erection against her slick slit. 

"Yes, my husband," she replied obediently, her voice filled with desire, waiting for him to fill her. 

He thrust himself into her up to the hilt, making her cry out at the rough invasion, and she wrapped her legs around him as he fucked her, rocking with his movements.

* * *

"Welkin, my wife." 

"Oh, Severus, please…not _again_." Welkin groaned with her eyes closed. "I’m so _tired_ ," she pleaded.

Snape was amused, and more than a little pleased with himself at her admission that he had worn her out with his ardor for her last night. However, sex was not the reason for his waking her.

"Breakfast has arrived, my sweet," he announced. 

Welkin opened one bleary eye. "Breakfast? Is there coffee?"

"Yes, a pot of it." 

"Will you bring me some?" she requested, reluctant to move. 

"I shall do better than that," Snape said, stripping back the coverlet. Very early in the morning, he had at last allowed Welkin to don her new rose-colored nightgown. He picked her up in it now, and carried her to the table. Holding her in his lap, he poured her a cup of coffee, stirred into it her accustomed two spoons of brown sugar, and presented it to her. "Since I am the cause of your current level of exhaustion, it is the least I can do," he admitted somewhat smugly.

"Mmmm…" she said, sipping from the cup, unable to articulate anything more. 

"Poor Welkin." He teased her, kissing the top of her head. "Marriage appears to be more than you bargained for."

"Jerk," she responded, taking another sip of coffee, then letting her head lean against his chest.

"Such impertinence to your Lord and Master," he said, continuing to needle her. 

" _Lord and Master?_ " That, at last, roused her. She sat up indignantly, nearly spilling hot coffee on them both. "That’ll be the day!" she huffed at him, but continued sitting in his lap. She took a more bracing gulp of coffee. "I’m still me, you know, even if we _are_ married. Nobody owns me. Just because we’re married, it doesn’t mean that you can tell me what to do. This is going to be an equal partnership and…what is this you’re wearing?" she asked, suddenly distracted from her lecture. She looked curiously at his long, grey nightshirt.

"It is my nightshirt." Snape raised his chin, and arched an eyebrow at her. 

"You look like _Rasputin_ in that thing," Welkin observed, grinning broadly. She spied the _Daily Prophet_ on the breakfast tray and, distracted again, grabbed it. "Oh, is our picture in here?"

Welkin’s lightning quick changes of subject matter were something Snape was starting to get used to. In the beginning, the trait had annoyed him intensely, as he himself was a very linear thinker. He had always considered that to be a more logical way of assessing things.

His conversations with Welkin, however, had long ago convinced him that she was a woman of superior intellect and reasoning abilities, despite her rather disjointed way of reaching conclusions, flippant way of expressing herself, and tendency towards letting her emotions run away with her. He had slowly come to appreciate that her seeming weaknesses were, in fact, strengths, affording her a uniquely creative way of looking at things, and a delightful wit. He was almost jealous of her. With the exception of his potions-making skills, Snape did not consider himself to be a very creative person.

"Oh, my God! What a couple of weirdoes!" Welkin had found their portrait on the society page. "You look like you want to kill somebody - probably that poor photographer - and I look like I’m far too happy about it. I’ve got _way_ too many teeth." She showed him their picture.

"I like your smile," Snape said truthfully. It was, in fact, one of the things he found most attractive about her, paired with her tendency to smile at him. Nobody else ever seemed to.

"Thank you, sweetness…and I’m sure I’d like your smile too, if I ever got to see it," Welkin teased him.

Snape had also been surprised, during their first week together, when they had talked each evening on her balcony after their frenzied lovemaking sessions, that Welkin genuinely seemed to enjoy his company. Aside from his acknowledged ability to give her the most intense physical pleasure she had ever experienced, she liked spending time with him, and was very open with him.

It had been Dumbledore’s idea to magically create the balcony for Welkin, since there were no balconies attached to any of the living quarters at Hogwarts. Snape had been puzzled at his insistence, but the outdoors area, with its spectacular view, had proved to be most advantageous in what Snape now considered to be their courtship. In just three short weeks, Welkin had become his lover, his best friend and confidant on that balcony, and at last, his wife. Severus Snape, the loneliest man at Hogwarts, was no longer alone.

"Oh, God! Listen to this," Welkin said. She quoted to him from the newspaper account. " _The former Miss Cooper hails from the United States of America, and is reputed to be from a Wizarding family of great antiquity._ Where do they get this bullshit? I guess they didn’t want to say you lowered yourself to marry a mere Muggle."

She was silent for a few moments, then looked at him seriously. "You don’t feel that way, do you? The way that they obviously do. That you lowered yourself by marrying me? Are you ashamed of me, that I’m just a Muggle?"

"Of course not. Do not ever think that. I am very proud to have you as my wife." 

"Poor Severus. You got a bitch, instead of a witch." 

"You are not a bitch," he insisted. 

"And you are not really an asshole, my handsome husband." Welkin leaned against him again, her head against his shoulder. "The verdict is still out on sex maniac."

* * *


	11. Snape's Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus provides one of Welkin's many sexual fantasies as a surprise Valentine's gift. He and Welkin have their first big fight, over an unexpected topic.

* * *

Snape glared at each new snogging couple they ran upon in their meanderings of the hallways and corridors, and in most cases, they sprang apart immediately, as if they had experienced a sudden electrical shock. For those who were too engrossed to notice the Potions Master, a well-placed rap on the back of the head of the boy did the trick.

"Can’t you just let them alone for today, Severus? It _is_ Valentine’s Day, after all." Welkin tried to plead their case, her arms wrapped around one of his as they strolled.

"Hormonal little gits," Snape muttered. 

Welkin sighed. There went her hopes for their first romantic Valentine’s Day together as husband and wife. Obviously the holiday meant nothing to him, if that was his dismal attitude. At least they would be having sex later, she consoled herself, which was more than most of those couples would be doing. Her eyes swept over Severus, his lanky body dressed in his long black robes, instead of his cloak and tunic. She realized that meant he was not wearing trousers today, simply his shorts underneath the robes, as was his custom. How convenient, she thought, smiling to herself. Maybe it wouldn’t have to wait until later, if she could find the right secluded alcove.

"Let’s go this way," she suggested, indicating one of the less lighted passageways. "I don’t believe I’ve seen this part of the castle yet."

"There is nothing of interest that way," Snape said. "It is not well frequented or kept, and is likely to be infested with vermin of some sort."

Except for the part about vermin, this was perfect, Welkin thought. "Just humor me. I’m curious." Welkin smiled at him.

Snape reluctantly relented, and they continued their stroll down the dark hallway, pausing to knock down the occasional cobweb, so that they could progress further. Welkin’s eyes darted here and there, looking for a likely trysting spot.

"If you have seen enough, I suggest we return the way we came," Snape said, just as Welkin found what she was looking for.

"Oh, look, here’s a bench," she said innocently, indicating the long, dusty stone slab directly across from a stained glass window, through which a modicum of light was streaming to illuminate it a bit. "Let’s sit down and rest a little, before we start back," she suggested.

What was she up to? Snape thought suspiciously. He drew his wand, and waved it at the bench to cleanse it of dust and debris, then sat next to her stiffly, on the cold slab. Never mind the cold, Welkin thought. This slab will be heating up soon enough.

"So…how are your students progressing so far this semester?" She engaged him in small talk.

Snape launched into a long diatribe of criticism directed at the assorted dunderheads he was expected to whip into shape. "You can whip _me_ into shape, anytime," Welkin said, when he at last paused. She placed a hand on his upper thigh and squeezed.

A little surprised, although not completely, since he was familiar with Welkin’s whims, Snape met her level gaze. "Welkin, this is not an altogether optimum location," he observed, but made no move to remove her hand, which was inching its way closer to his crotch.

Welkin licked her lips. "Any location is optimum, if my pussy is wet, and your cock is hard," she insisted. "Let me see what you’ve got hidden for me under those robes, Professor. I want to suck that big cock of yours."

Welkin didn’t wait for an engraved invitation. She dropped to her knees in front of him, grasped the hem of his robes, raised it, and dived under, letting it fall again to cover her. Placing a hand on either side of his hips on the bench, to steady herself, she nuzzled his crotch with her face, feeling his cock growing stiff against her cheek through the silky, black shorts she’d bought for him. Placing her lips against his cock through the fabric, she kissed and nibbled her way up and down its impressive length. She heard Snape groan deeply, and call her name.

Drawing his rapidly stiffening cock through the flap of his shorts, Welkin slowly and delicately licked the head a few times. "What would you like your little cocksucker to do, Professor?" she asked, and flicked her tongue across the head again, feeling it twitch impatiently in her hand.

"Suck it, woman!" Snape insisted, placing one of his pale, long-fingered hands on the back of her head through his robes, and shoving her hard into his crotch. She smiled to herself, and clenched her thighs together rapidly several times, squeezing her pussy lips together pleasurably in the process.

"I want to feel dirty when I have your monster cock in my mouth, thrusting down my throat," she continued, this time with her own groan, as she nibbled at his balls through the shorts. "Am I your dirty girl, Professor? Am I?"

"Yes…yes…you’re my dirty little cocksucker! Now, suck it, bitch!" 

That’s the spirit, Welkin thought, pleased at his rapid progress with the art of talking dirty during sex. She licked him liberally to lubricate, opened her mouth wide, and slid down on him as far as she could go, sucking hard as she came back up. She bobbed up and down on his thick, veined shaft, taking more of him until finally he was hitting the back of her throat, and she was gagging slightly each time she went down.

"Dirty little cocksucking bitch," Snape groaned hoarsely. "Take every inch of it," he ordered, forcing her head down until her lips and nose were buried in his musky, black pubic hair, and his cock was buried in her throat. She gagged harder, but didn’t stop. Welkin cupped his balls with her hand, and felt them tighten under her touch. He was close to exploding. "Fuck!" Snape cursed, the sound of it reverberating down the dark hallway. "Fuck it! Fuck!" He forced her head down until she hit bottom again, and exploded down her throat, shooting spasm after spasm of come, until she couldn’t swallow fast enough, and it began dripping down her chin. When his cock finally stopped twitching, and began to soften in her mouth, she pulled away, and licked him clean, savoring the taste of his slightly salty come. 

Welkin emerged from beneath his robes, eyes shining brightly, with a smile on her face, his spunk decorating her chin. She leaned against him on the bench and, his arm around her, Snape took one long finger and gathered the rest of his semen from her face, holding it before her full lips. "Open wide, my eager little cocksucker," he ordered. She opened her mouth, and closed it over his finger, sucking and swirling her tongue over it, until she’d gotten it all.

"Do I get a passing grade, Professor?" Welkin asked, licking her lips. 

"Class isn’t quite over," Snape told her. "I give you excellent marks on your oral exam, but the most difficult portion of the examination is yet to come. I am sure that it will…stretch your capacity to the limit," he smirked. "We must return to our chambers, wife, and continue your education immediately."

* * *

The smell of lilacs bombarded Welkin’s senses as Severus ushered her into their bedchamber. To her surprise, there were lighted candles everywhere, and multiple containers filled with lilacs, as well as a candlelit table with two place settings, and several round covered trays beside it, placed on black metal serving stands. A bottle of red wine was already open to breathe, in preparation of their arrival.

"Lilacs! Oh, Severus, they smell wonderful! You didn’t forget." Welkin looked ecstatic.

"They are your favorites, are they not?" 

"Yes, but I thought you’d forgotten Valentine’s Day. Or didn’t care about it." 

"I care very much about pleasing you," Snape assured her in his low British accent and cadence that never failed to make her feel a little weak in the knees. "Tonight, I shall fulfill your unspoken desires. But first, I ask that you freshen yourself in the loo." He indicated the bathroom to her. "I can smell your pussy, and while it is quite as pleasant to me as the lilacs are to you, I cannot guarantee that I can restrain myself through our meal, if you do not diminish the scent. It is far too arousing."

Welkin disappeared quickly into the bathroom, and reemerged minutes later, de-scented, hair and teeth brushed, and wearing yet another new nightgown. The nightgowns seemed to be multiplying, Snape noted. As quickly as he tore one, in his impatience to bed her, she acquired another. This one was red, presumably because it was Valentine’s Day, off the shoulder, with an empire-waist, long and flowing, as she seemed to prefer. Her nipples were on display, but not yet erect, Snape noticed. That would be remedied soon.

"We’d better eat fast, or I’m going to need another trip to the loo to freshen myself again," Welkin told him, as Snape held her chair and seated her. With a click of his fingers, the old-fashioned gramophone in the corner began playing a pre-loaded selection softly in the background.

Snape lifted the cover from the first tray, and Welkin arched an eyebrow as he prepared to serve her. "Really, Severus, oysters? What’s under the second tray? Spanish fly? Oysters aren’t really an aphrodisiac, you know," Welkin lectured him.

"They are, in the manner in which I prepare them," he informed her. "I have included a small tincture of a potion, which I believe will add to your pleasure this evening." He lifted an oyster from its shell with one of the small serving forks, and brought it to her lips. She opened her mouth obediently to show that she trusted him, and he placed it delicately on her tongue, where she held it.

"Swallow, Welkin. I know how much you like to," Snape teased with a smirk. 

Welkin tried to say something with her mouth full, which sounded suspiciously like the word 'Jerk' to him. 

She swallowed, and let the oyster slide down her throat. There was a tingling, hot aftertaste. Snape picked up his own oyster, and tilted his head back to swallow it from the shell. He fed her two more, and downed the remaining two, then poured them each a glass of wine.

Welkin’s whole body was tingling, and she felt flushed. Snape was staring at her chest with a pleased expression, as he took a sip of wine, causing her to look down to see what he found so fascinating. Her nipples were fully distended, forming pert little cones under her nightgown, as if they had been teased erect. She touched one curiously, and it felt like an electric shock of pleasure. " _Oh!_ " she exclaimed involuntarily, drawing another pleased smirk from Snape. "Your potion?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "It heightens the physical senses severalfold. Is your pussy tingling, as well?" he inquired.

"Yes. I don’t think I’d better touch _that_ though." 

"No need. I’ll be touching it quite thoroughly soon. The effects of the potion will progressively weaken, and wear off by morning."

Welkin shivered at the thought of hours of heightened arousal. How much pleasure could one woman take? Apparently, she was going to find out.

Welkin sipped her wine, as Snape uncovered the second tray. There was a single bowl of soup, with two spoons. Welkin looked puzzled. "Mandrake soup," Snape said. "A very ancient aphrodisiac, with the efficacy to ensure potency." He failed to mention it was also reputed to enhance fertility.

"Oh, you certainly don’t need _that_ , Severus. I’ve never met a more potent man in my life," Welkin protested. 

"Humor me," he said, handing her a spoon, and repositioning his chair close to hers, so that they might more easily share the soup. His proximity increased the tingling between her legs, and she nearly knocked over the bowl, if he hadn’t caught it. "Nervous, my sweet?" he asked, obviously amused at her. 

"Not in the least," she assured him, trying not to look worried. "Severus, what did you mean when you said you’re going to fulfill my _unspoken_ desires?"

"It means that I have been in your mind, my pet, and I know what it is that you fantasize about. I know what you truly desire sexually. I am going to provide it, and provide it quite well, I assure you."

"But, those are just fantasies," she protested, wondering which of the many he must have seen in her mind that he had selected. "Oh, God, you haven’t arranged a gangbang, have you?" Welkin demanded, dropping her spoon on the table in her agitation. 

Snape retrieved it for her. "Eat your soup," he ordered firmly. "No, I have not. I do not ever intend to share you with other men," he said emphatically. "That is a fantasy that will always remain a fantasy. Although, that _was_ one of your more interesting scenarios to view. Six men?" He arched both eyebrows at her, a wicked glimmer in his dark eyes. 

Welkin actually blushed, as she busied herself with spooning more soup into her mouth, as ordered. This was starting to get a little embarrassing. "Some things are meant to be private, even from you," she complained. "Can I have some more wine, please?"

"I do not think that will be necessary." Seeing that she was finished, and judging that the amount she had eaten would probably be sufficient, Snape picked up the bowl, and drained the rest of the soup into his mouth. He stood up to remove the cover from the third tray, and Welkin broke into a broad grin. Standing alone on the tray was a small bottle of Jagermeister, and two shotglasses.

Snape poured them each a shot from the ice-cold bottle. "Your aphrodisiac of choice," he told her, handing her one of the shotglasses. Their hands touched in the process, and Welkin’s nerve endings exploded again. They clinked glasses. "To pleasure…and surrender," Snape toasted, and downed his shot. Welkin downed hers. To pleasure and surrender? She pondered what that might mean. Pleasure and…oh, fuck! He’d chosen one of her submission fantasies. She was suddenly sure of it. You _would_ choose one of those, you devious, dominating bastard. It was guaranteed to give him the most pleasure too, and what he desired most, no doubt, which was control over her, judging by the way he seemed to enjoy bossing her around, when he could get away with it.

"Do you require another?" he asked, offering to pour from the bottle again. "I think it is time to begin." 

"Yes, I think I do," Welkin said nervously.

* * *

Severus was nude except for his black shorts, which somehow made him seem more intimidating to Welkin, than if he had been completely naked. Welkin appreciatively took in the sight of his tall, pale, thin but well-muscled body; broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, a sparse amount of dark chest hair over a mostly smooth chest, flat, well-toned stomach, and the trace of the Dark Mark brand on his inner left forearm.

The Dark Mark, Welkin had come to learn, was a magically induced brand which had been placed there when Severus was young, and had become involved in the Dark Arts to the point that he sought initiation into a group known as Death Eaters, who served someone Severus referred to only as the Dark Lord. He had not been forthcoming with many details, but the design of the mark - a death’s head skull with a snake entwined and descending from its mouth like a curved tail - indicated the nature of the group well enough. Severus’s Dark Mark was faded to a dark red scar, a sign that it was inactive. Active marks were black, like a tattoo. The Dark Mark was a sign of loyalty, and was used when the Dark Lord wished to summon them, in which case, the recipient of the mark would experience a burning sensation.

Death Eaters were hated and feared in the Wizarding World, and subject to imprisonment in a magical prison called Azkaban. Somehow, Severus had managed to escape that fate for whatever dark crimes he had committed, but again, would not tell Welkin exactly how.

Snape’s shoulder-length black hair was often described by others as falling in greasy curtains about his face, but Welkin had found it to be more fine, and naturally oily, than greasy. Her catering to it with more frequent shampooing had rendered it less oily, and silkier.

Snape’s rather large hooked nose, combined with his decidedly sarcastic and unsympathetic way of expressing himself, had combined to make him very few women’s first, or even last choice as a companion or lover. Welkin, on the other hand, favored big noses, and found the sarcasm amusing, as long as it wasn’t directed at her too often. If it was, she simply gave it right back to him. He seemed to respect that about her.

Welkin loved his mouth, though he rarely smiled, except in a quirk or a smirk, and certainly hardly ever showed his teeth, perhaps because they were so uneven. She could not picture him with his teeth straightened or unnaturally whitened, however. His physical imperfections were part of him, the way that she had come to love him, and she would not have changed them. At any rate, his breath was perfectly pleasant, and that was more important when they kissed. Snape’s lips were thin, yet sensually curved, and he was very, very good at kissing, and damn near perfect at eating pussy, though probably a bit too demanding for some, Welkin thought. Welkin, luckily, liked most things sexual a little, or a lot, rougher than the average woman - no candy-ass loving for her.

Which brought her silent critique to the part of her husband currently still covered, his prodigiously large cock. Like most British males, Severus was uncut, a relatively new experience for Welkin. It was not as visually or aesthetically pleasing to her as a circumcised cock, she admitted to herself, but Severus more than made up for that in his ten inch length and large girth. It was pleasantly scary even to see his cock dangling casually between his legs, along with those large and nearly hairless balls of his. It was as if he had been compensated for his less than stellar facial looks by a secret weapon, one that he wielded with devastating effects. Snape was proud of his cock, and his ability to use it, and Welkin thought he had every right to be proud.

Welkin unconsciously licked her lips as she was staring at him. 

"Do you like what you see?" Snape asked her, aware that she had been assessing him.

"Yes. Yes I do. You know that I do." Welkin smiled, unable to maintain the gravity this scenario apparently called for.

"Then, I propose that turnabout is fair play. You will display yourself to me. Take off your nightgown," he demanded. 

Welkin hurriedly pulled the shoulders down and shucked out of it, letting it drop to the floor. She stepped to the side, and kicked it away from her.

"Pick that up, and put it away properly. This is our bedchamber, not a pigsty," Snape scowled.

Welkin bent to pick it up. She folded it carefully, and walked over to the dresser to put it away in the bottom drawer. This wasn’t so bad, Welkin decided. It was sort of like playing naked _'Simon Says'_. Correction - naked _'Severus Says'_. She started to straighten up, but suddenly her hanging breasts were grasped from behind by her distended nipples, sending another erotic shock through her that made her cry out loudly. Snape’s fingers pinched her, and pulled down painfully. " _Ow!_ That hurts!"

"If it hurts so much, why is your pussy wet again, slut?" Snape breathed into her ear. "I can _smell_ it." He squeezed her tits hard and released them, dragging her over to the armchair by the bed. He forced her down, bent over one arm of the chair, her head pressed into the seat cushion, and her ass elevated. He pulled her legs apart roughly. "Stay that way," he warned. "I want to play with your pussy before I fuck it."

She felt his fingers touch her, probing at her pussy, and she exploded with sensation. "Oh, _Je-zus!_ " She spread her legs wider, as he explored inside her briefly with his fingers, then his warm tongue, snaking it around inside her while he rolled her clit between his fingers. " _God, help me!_ " she shouted, her pussy on fire. Suddenly, he was gone. She wriggled her ass in frustration, but stayed put. "Severus?"

"Do you want your pussy filled, slut?" Snape was back, leaning over her, hissing into her ear. 

"Yes. Yes I do!" she agreed eagerly. Something long, smooth, and thick was thrust into her pussy, but it was too cold to be his cock. Snape began to work it in and out of her, keeping her head smashed into the chair cushion with one hand. Welkin grunted each time it went in. 

"You like being fucked, don’t you?" Snape hissed. "It doesn’t matter what I ram up your cunt, does it?"

"No…no, it doesn’t," Welkin groaned. Her pussy was getting hotter, and tingling and spasming more by the second, from the potion she’d ingested, and from being fucked from behind by God knew what.

"I can’t get deep enough with this," Snape told her. Whatever it was, was pulled out, and Snape rammed himself home inside her. He began to fuck hard and deep, slamming into her with each stroke, his balls slapping against her round ass.

"Nice tight pussy," he muttered. "Take my cock, and come for me, you fucking cunt." 

Welkin yowled like a cat in heat. His cock felt like it was splitting her apart, but she wanted more. " _Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!_ " she screamed. With great difficulty, Snape forced himself to pull out, Welkin shrieking in protest. " _Noooo_ …Fuck me! Don’t stop!"

He pushed her off the chair onto the floor, and tossed the leather dildo he’d used on her earlier onto her stomach. "Fuck yourself, slut. I want to watch," he rasped hoarsely. Desperate to come, Welkin grabbed the dildo and began to fuck herself with it, moaning and writhing on the floor as Snape watched, his eyes no more than slits. Dropping to his knees, he crawled to the side of her head, and began to smack his rigid cock against her lips and cheeks, breathing hard as he continued watching her fucking herself. "Fuck that tight pussy harder," he growled. "You can do better than that, you little cocksucker." He worked his cock with one hand, and reached out to tug at her nipples with the other.

"Watch me fuck myself, Severus. Please. I want you to," she moaned. Welkin arched her back off the floor and spread her legs wider to give him a better view, as she watched him working over his cock next to her face. She strained her head towards him, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue.

Avoiding her tongue, Snape pressed the head of his cock against her full lower lip, smearing it with his pre-cum. Welkin licked at it eagerly, and opened her mouth again.

Snape continued to pump his cock, but now moved his other hand to her clit as she fucked herself, fingering it expertly. "Oh, _Jee-zus_ , yes!" Welkin began to come as Severus, timing his own orgasm, began to pump his come over her face, and into her open mouth. Welkin let out a long agonized wail as her orgasm rippled through her, seeming to go on and on.

When she finally regained her senses, she slowly pulled the dildo out of herself, and let it rest wetly on her stomach, as Snape smeared the last dibbles of his semen against her cheek.

"Sweet Welkin," he intoned softly, stroking her hair, as she stretched luxuriantly. 

"Woo hoo!" she shouted, grinning and pumping her hands energetically in the air, as Severus watched her intently. "That was quite a Valentine, Sweetie. I feel like a hot mess. We always seem to end up on the floor, don’t we?" Welkin said to him in an exhilarated rush of words.

Severus rose from the floor, and pulled her up to join him. "Happy Valentine’s Day," he said, cupping her rounded ass as he kissed her, sending sparks through her again at his touch.

"Last one in the bathtub is a rotten egg," Welkin announced suddenly, as she pulled away and ran for the bathroom, with Severus in hot pursuit.

* * *

Welkin sat in the sudsy warmth of the bath, positioned between Snape’s legs, as he leaned over her shoulder, enjoying the sight of his hands lathering her breasts with soap. He cupped water in his hands, and poured it over her to rinse her. Her turgid nipples still ached to be touched, and she turned herself towards him, balancing on her knees, so that her breasts were aligned with his face. It was an obvious invitation, and Snape took it, suckling at first one pink nipple, then the other, his hands sliding on the slick, soft skin of her back, down to her buttocks, to squeeze and knead them roughly. Welkin entwined her fingers in his wet hair, as his explored the cleft between her butt cheeks, before one finger reached under and slid into her pussy, as his thumb penetrated into the tightness of her virgin ass. His mouth released her nipple, and Snape leaned back against the back of the tub, gazing at her. Welkin leaned into him to kiss his lips, sucking his lower lip between hers, eliciting a deep groan.

"What is your greatest desire, Severus?" she asked softly. 

Not so long ago, before her, the answer would have been quite different. "You are," he answered her honestly. "You are my greatest, and only desire."

* * *

Welkin stretched against him and yawned, clad again in her red nightgown. Snape had donned the new soft, silver-grey nightshirt she had bought for him. She favored him in a nightshirt, just not one quite so severe looking as what he usually wore. This one, with its open vee-neck, looked a bit more casual.

After their marriage, Welkin had her Muggle bank account, and other quite respectable sum of assets, converted and combined with her husband’s. She now had her own discretionary spending money again, which she tended to spend on small luxuries for Severus, or for them both.

"Read me a story," Welkin requested, missing their afternoon ritual of him reading to her when they were at Spinner’s End. "I like the way your voice sounds." 

Snape quirked a smile, pleased, and abandoning her briefly, went to the writing desk in the corner of the room, and retrieved her Christmas gift to him; a very early, well-preserved edition of tales by the American author Edgar Allan Poe. Before their wedding, he had read from it nightly, alone. He carefully removed the vellum sheet she had signed instead of the book, owing to its expense and rarity. " _Merry Christmas, to Severus from Welkin -- thanks for all the hot Wizard sex -- December 1994_ ," was written in Welkin’s free-flowing cursive, so unlike his own small, controlled, cramped handwriting. Added later, after his declaration of love to her, in slightly different ink, were the words " _With All My Love, Forever and Always…_ " His fingers stroked across the words as if they were Welkin herself, before he returned to bed with the book, and Welkin snuggled against him again. 

"Oh, I wondered where that had gotten to." She yawned again sleepily as he began reading, and she recognized the text. "Do you like Poe? I thought that you might. He reminds me of you in some ways."

"Yes, I believe that I do. He is quite an interesting ‘yarn spinner’ as you would say," Snape observed. Snape had less fiction in his personal collection than non-fiction, but this tome had a special place of honor among it.

"You should read his poetry," Welkin said. "He’s rather dark, but also ultra-romantic in some ways. That’s why he reminds me of you."

Snape considered this new image of himself as 'romantic' and decided that he found it tolerable, if not entirely realistic. Welkin tended to imbue him with virtues he did not always see in himself. It was part of her charm, and if it bound her to him more completely, he was not going to discourage any such image she might concoct.

"How else do you see me?" he asked with subtle, yet eager, curiosity. 

"Mmmm…well…let’s see," she thought, her head against his shoulder. One of her hands slid into the neckline of his nightshirt, and she absently stroked the sparse dark hair on his chest as she pondered. "Brilliant and talented, that’s a given," she said.

"Obviously," he agreed immodestly, causing her to arch her eyebrow at him again.

"You’re very funny, when you choose to be," Welkin continued. "You’ve got a talent for analyzing people. You’re a bit too full of yourself at times, and you treat some of your students terribly. I wish you’d lighten up a little where they’re concerned. They’re just children. You can verbally rip new assholes into every adult you meet, as far as I’m concerned. If they can’t stand up to you, that’s their problem. But you shouldn’t do that to children. You can be firm without being mean, or unkind. Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Are we discussing Potter again?" Snape asked with disdain. The insolent little whelp intruded on his life too much as it was. Now, he was invading his bedchamber, and intruding on his marriage, by diminishing Welkin’s respect for him.

"Harry is the most egregious example, yes, but there are others." Welkin had stopped petting him, and sat up in bed, Snape noticed, with growing irritation. Welkin, unfortunately, failed to notice his irritation, and continued with her criticism. "Neville Longbottom is another. You treat that poor boy horribly, as if he didn’t have the sense that God gave a goose. When he’s one of the nicest, kindest…"

"Perhaps you would prefer one of _them_ to share your bed," Snape said icily, glaring at her.

"Severus!" Welkin couldn’t believe what he’d just said to her. She looked at him in shocked astonishment, her mouth open. "They’re just boys! How could you even _think_ that of me, much less say it to my face?"

"How could you take their part against me?" he retorted. "What am I supposed to think?"

"Certainly _not_ that I’m a pedophile, who chases little boys," Welkin growled. She scurried away from him in the bed in disgust.

"They are not boys. They are young wizards. I have seen the way you talk to them, and cater to them - the way you threw yourself at Potter in the hallway the other day."

"I just hugged him, you jerk! He helped me with some things I was carrying, and I hugged him. You act like I leapt on him and dry humped his leg!"

"He’d like that," Snape growled back. "He’d like using you to humiliate me." He leaned towards her in the bed, the vein in his temple throbbing, showing how agitated he was getting. "You’d like to sample the virgin wares of the almighty _Chosen One_ , wouldn’t you? Admit it!" he roared, now clearly furious, and obviously irrational.

"I do _not_ want to _fuck_ Harry Potter!" Welkin yelled back. "You are insane!" She leapt from the bed, grabbed her pillow and flung it full in his face. "I kissed Draco on the cheek too. Maybe I should just go round them all up, Harry, Neville, and Draco, and fulfill my gangbang fantasy," Welkin told him, adding fuel to the fire that was already raging. "I’d only need three more. No doubt, you’ve noticed that I’ve had my eye on the Weasley twins ever since I got here, and I’ll need a man with experience to direct the action. I’ll ask Lucius Malfoy to join us. I’m sure he’d be _more_ than willing," she said, twisting the knife in his heart, wanting to hurt him as much as he was hurting her.

Welkin put on her slippers and robe and tied the sash, heading for the door, Snape stubbornly refusing to stop her.

"You wouldn’t dare," Snape told her, sounding too confident. 

"Oh, wouldn’t I?" She walked out the door, slamming it behind her for emphasis. She expected him to come after her as she made her way through the antechamber, and the door leading to the staircase. When he didn’t, she hesitated.

Welkin wanted to go back, but if she did, it would be like admitting that Severus wasn’t completely and totally wrong, which he was. Anger, hurt, pride, and stubbornness kept her moving up the stairs without looking back.

* * *

Snape, in his long, dark dressing gown, paced back and forth in their bedchamber, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, and a look of annoyance on his face. Occasionally, he paused to contemplate whether he had, indeed, crossed the line with Welkin, one long finger unconsciously tracing the outline of his lips, as he always did when he was deep in thought.

Calmer now, he delayed going after Welkin, wanting her to stew in the uncertainty of whether he would or not. She would be waiting for him in the hallway, properly contrite, and ready to admit that she had been wrong to goad him and say those hurtful things to him. He was certain of that, wasn’t he?

After a reasonable number of minutes, he exited the bedchamber. She was not in the antechamber. She was not waiting at the foot of the stairs. She was gone, he realized with a sinking feeling.

* * *

"Lover’s quarrel?" Albus asked her, taking in her tear-stained face as he admitted Welkin to his office in the middle of the night.

Welkin nodded her head at him, her bottom lip trembling. "A big one." She had taken a chance that Dumbledore would still be up, because she did not want to be seen crying in the hallways. The Weasley twins would start taking bets again on how long their marriage would last, as they had done at the wedding reception.

Albus seated her, and without asking, poured them each a libation of brandy. She accepted her glass gratefully, and gulped half of it.

"What did he do?" Albus asked, assuming automatically that it must have been some misstep of Snape’s that caused this.

"We were talking about his students, and he suddenly accused me of wanting to fuck Harry Potter." Dumbledore had heard her say fuck before, so she did not mince words with him.

"Do you? Want to fuck Harry Potter, I mean?" Albus added. 

"He’s just a boy! Of course not!" Did everybody around here think she wanted to fuck anything that moved? Welkin was on the verge of crying again, over the unfairness of it all.

"A pity. He’s rather a shy boy. It would probably do him a world of good if you _did_ fuck him." Welkin looked shocked, until Albus winked at her, to let her know he was pulling her leg. "There is something that you should know about Harry, I think. Perhaps it will help explain Severus’s reaction to him, so that you might understand better. Harry is the son of James and Lily Potter," Albus said. Welkin looked blank. "Lily Potter," Albus repeated, "Whose maiden name was Evans."

" _The_ Lily Evans? Harry is her son? Damn it! Why didn’t Severus tell me that?" Welkin exclaimed. Harry was the son of the man who Lily chose over him. She made the connection. "That explains some of it, though not all," Welkin added hastily. "He insinuated that I wanted to fuck half the male student body of Hogwarts." She gulped the rest of her drink. Albus politely refilled her glass.

"Really? None of the faculty?" Albus asked curiously, suspecting that, in her anger, she had exaggerated in her mind what Snape had actually said.

"No, but I’m sure he would have gotten around to them too, if I hadn’t left. He was out of his freakin’ gourd," Welkin sniffed, inelegantly wiping her nose on her sleeve before Dumbledore could offer her a handkerchief.

There was another knock on the door. "Enter," Dumbledore said. 

The door opened and Snape stood framed in the doorway. "I am looking for…" He trailed off as he saw Welkin in the chair, with Dumbledore perched on the edge of his desk close to her.

"Severus, come in," Albus said smiling. "Welkin and I were just about to have sex. Would you like to join us?"

Welkin choked on her drink. 

"That is not amusing," Snape scowled. 

"Neither was what you said to me," Welkin snapped, refusing to look at him. 

"Careful, Welkin. This is not a battle that is worth the fighting," Albus cautioned. "Are those flowers for me, Severus?" He turned his attention back to Snape. "How thoughtful."

Welkin turned to look, and saw the small bouquet of lilacs in Snape’s hand, carefully tied together with a purple satin ribbon. Snape noticed her tear-stained face as he offered them to Welkin stiffly. "I am…sorry that I accused you."

"You should be. But I think I understand now, and I guess I forgive you." She took the flowers and held them to her nose, inhaling their intoxicating fragrance, as they stared silently at one another.

"I think it’s time for this wizard to go to bed. Lock up please, Severus, when you are finished." With that, Dumbledore discreetly disappeared in a small flash of light, and some residual smoke, leaving them alone.

"I am an asshole for making you cry," Snape announced. 

"And I don’t know when to shut up," Welkin admitted. "Oh, Severus! I love you!" She rushed to him, melting into his arms, and his firm, comfortingly familiar, demanding kiss.

* * *

"Ye gods," Dumbledore said to Fawkes, as he tucked himself in for the night. "Master Wizard, Headmaster of Hogwarts, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Wizarding matchmaker, and now, marriage counselor to two of the most _childish_ adults it has ever been my misfortune to play Cupid to."

Perched near him, in his nesting stand, Fawkes the phoenix gave an understanding and knowing squawk. "Yes, I know, Fawkes," Albus agreed, removing his half-moon glasses and placing them on the nightstand, as he eased himself into bed. "I completely agree. They _are_ perfect for each other, aren't they? Happy Valentine’s Day, my old friend." The ancient wizard rolled onto his back, and was soon asleep, snoring peacefully.

* * *


	12. Catfight at the Quidditch Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin attends her first Quidditch match, and must cope with both the sparse selection of snack foods, and the unwanted attentions being paid to Severus by someone from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter introduces a new original character, the seductress, Huldra Helliwell.

* * *

Sports didn’t particularly interest Welkin, but Quidditch was apparently a big deal in the Wizarding World and Severus insisted that she attend the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match with him, so she went along to humor him. She took her place with him in a boxed-off area which included Minerva and Albus. To Welkin’s chagrin, just two rows behind them sat Lucius Malfoy with a bevy of witchy ladies surrounding him, all of them dressed to the nines.

Lucius, despite the surfeit of lovelies paying court to him, spotted them the moment they arrived and his attention immediately became riveted on Welkin, much to her annoyance. She pointedly scooted closer to Snape, knowing Lucius was watching, even without having to turn around to look. She took Severus’s arm, leaning her head against him in an exaggerated display of wifely contentment.

The players took the field on their brooms and Welkin gradually forgot about Malfoy, trying to make sense of the game as she watched the furious action in the air. Snape whispered salient points about the game in her ear and made sarcastically witty remarks that made her laugh repeatedly until, to her surprise, she began to enthusiastically cheer each time a score was made. To Snape’s amusement, Welkin cheered no matter which team scored, leaping from her seat to shout and do a little dance, unselfconsciously wiggling her ass from left to right each time, an occurence which Snape found pleasantly distracting. Her wiggling reminded him how much he was looking forward to teaching her some plays himself later tonight after the game.

Snape pulled out a silver flask and took a drink of firewhisky just as Welkin sat down again. 

"Hey, what’s that? Is that firewhisky?" she whispered. "Give me a taste." 

The Weasley twins had mentioned it and she was anxious to try it. Welkin took a deep swig out of the flask he handed her, feeling the liquid burn on the way down. She let out a low whistle of appreciation. "That’s strong stuff." She coughed and wiped her mouth. "You’ve been holding out on me." She playfully fended him off long enough to get another swig before he took the flask back. 

Snape took another nip as well and returned the flask to his pocket. "You may have another drink after the next score, if you behave yourself," he promised indulgently.

"Thank you, Daddy," Welkin smirked at him, subtly pointing out how bombastically paternal he had sounded.

* * *

"Who is that with Severus?" the beautiful brunette witch sitting next to Lucius asked. 

"That, believe it or not, is his wife - his _Muggle_ wife," he emphasized. 

Huldra Helliwell knew that Snape, like a lot of other hot-blooded young wizards at Hogwarts, had once been interested in her in a sexual way when they were both quite a bit younger. Because she was a pureblood witch whose family was quite a bit wealthier than the strange, solitary teen, she had ignored him then, considering him somewhat beneath her. But seeing Welkin hanging onto him now, so obviously smitten with him, had drawn Huldra's attention to Snape and intrigued her. If the Muggle found him interesting enough to marry, perhaps there was something about him that she had overlooked, Huldra thought speculatively.

Huldra had made quite a hobby of temporarily collecting other women’s husbands. With her beautiful face and desirable body, she was confident she could add Severus to her collection as well, should she choose to do so. He might make for an amusing diversion for a month or two. The Muggle could have him back after she’d had her fill of him. Of course, Severus probably wouldn’t want his Muggle back after he’d tasted what delights Huldra had to offer him.

Lucius was ignoring his female companions, watching Welkin’s firm, rounded Muggle ass in her tight jeans as she bounced and twitched her way through another of her little victory dances. God, how he still wanted that saucy little piece of tail in his bed, even after she had both insulted him and drawn blood by biting him during their encounter in the Hogwarts library. What a little spitfire she would be, writhing beneath him. He’d make that tight ass of hers twitch, given half the chance.

"How long have they been married?" Huldra asked Lucius, intruding on his dirty little reveries concerning Welkin. 

"Less than two months," Lucius told her. "Interested in Severus, now that he’s a married man?" Lucius asked her, knowing her penchant for such games. 

Huldra smiled slyly at him with her impeccably made-up full, red lips.

* * *

Welkin took another swig from Snape’s flask. "I need a bathroom break," she announced suddenly, scrambling past him. "Be right back."

Knowing Welkin, she was also probably going to look for a snack, Snape thought. She had already expressed disappointment that there were no 'hotdogs, nachos or funnel cakes' at Quidditch matches. Of the three, Snape was only vaguely aware of what a hotdog was.

"Hello, Severus," a seductive female voice greeted him. Snape looked up at Huldra Helliwell smiling down at him with her alarmingly glossy red lips. 

"May I sit down?" she asked, not waiting to be told yes. She simply insinuated herself into Welkin’s empty seat. "I was sitting with Lucius and when I saw you I just had to come say hello to an old friend." 

She leaned in to touch his arm intimately. "You’re looking even more handsome than I remember," she said flirtatiously.

"You are… looking well," Snape responded uncomfortably, wanting to remove her hand from him but not quite sure how to do it in this public venue without attracting unwanted attention. 

Huldra took care of the problem by removing it herself, but then created a bigger one by shifting her hand to his knee. 

"I hear congratulations are in order on your recent marriage, even though it makes me a little jealous of your wife. I always thought that we might end up getting together. At least... I always hoped so," Huldra told him with a confident smile, giving his knee a little squeeze. 

Snape tried to move his knee away from the uninvited contact but Huldra had it in a vice grip and was now brazenly eyeing what Welkin liked to call his 'goods', much to his growing discomfort.

"Severus, who is this rude woman pawing you and why is her presumptuous ass in my seat?" Welkin demanded, returning just in time, much to Snape’s relief. Welkin, with a half-eaten apple fritter in her hand, was frowning at Huldra.

"Oh, my dear... you must be Severus’s wife," Huldra said with a fake smile. "Severus and I are old friends. You mustn’t be jealous." Her hand moved a little farther up Snape’s leg as she said it.

"I don’t care who the hell you are. Get your fucking hand off my husband and get out of my goddamn seat," Welkin said.

"Well!" Huldra stood up, as if shocked by Welkin’s coarse language, although she had certainly heard much worse from other men’s wives over the years. "I guess we’ll have to get together to reminisce some other time, Severus," she purred, shooting Welkin a haughty look.

"I don’t think so. Not if you don’t want the rest of this fritter crammed up that hot to trot ass of yours," Welkin told her, as Huldra hurried past her and rejoined Lucius’s group.

"Glad I didn’t have to waste a perfectly good fritter," Welkin said, calmly reclaiming her seat. "Want a bite?" she offered Snape, who was looking at her with unconcealed admiration. He leaned over and took a bite.

"Very well handled, Welkin." Minerva leaned towards her to compliment her. Minerva had never liked Huldra. She was a predatory female of the worst sort, in her opinion.

"Thank you," Severus said after swallowing his bite. Welkin knew he wasn’t referring to her sharing the fritter. 

"Think nothing of it." She smiled back at him. "What kind of a wife would I be if I didn’t come to your rescue when you’re being menaced by random trollops?"

* * *

"That little Muggle nobody! Who does she think she’s dealing with?" Huldra fumed to Lucius, who hadn’t heard Huldra’s part of the exchange, but had certainly heard Welkin’s portion of it clearly. Her defense of Severus, extricating him deftly from Huldra’s clutches, had both amused and aroused him. The minx was driving him to distraction - so much so, that he might have to seek a private location soon to relieve himself. Of course, he could have any of the witches seated with him, if he chose, but none of their twats held any mystery for him.

"Surely, you aren’t giving up, Huldra?" Lucius goaded. 

"You know me better than that," Huldra assured him. "I’m determined now. I’ll have Severus Snape before the sun dawns tomorrow," she vowed. "Why wouldn’t he prefer me? I’m beautiful, and pureblood. She’s pretty, I’ll grant her that, but she’s no great beauty like I am."

Lucius knew she was right. Huldra was much more physically beautiful than Welkin; yet, Welkin had something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on - something Huldra would never have - something she had given freely to Severus.

Lucius pictured the spirited little Muggle naked, submitting herself to Snape’s every desire, freely, uninhibitedly, and without reserve. "Excuse me, ladies," Lucius said, rising from his seat, careful not to let his arousal become common knowledge. "I have something rather urgent that I need to attend to…"

* * *

"Who won?" Welkin asked. 

"Gryffindor," Snape said flatly. 

"That’s too bad," Welkin said sympathetically. 

"You were just cheering for Gryffindor," Snape pointed out. 

"Oh, I know it. I’m an equal opportunity cheerleader," Welkin said. "But I’m still sorry your team lost. Have another drink of firewhisky. It’ll make you feel better."

Snape took his flask back, and took a swig. "I do not feel better, but I do have to take a piss," he told her.

"Go on. I’ll catch up with you. I need to collect my winnings from the Weasley twins."

"You bet against Slytherin?" Snape asked accusingly. 

"Well, yeah. Gryffindor’s record was better," Welkin said pragmatically. 

Snape shook his head at her ruefully, turned on his heel, and left her sitting there.

"There goes a sore loser, in search of a place to whiz," Welkin told Albus. 

"And here goes a gracious winner, in search of the same thing," Albus said, exiting the stands with Minerva.

Welkin collected her modest winnings, stuffed them into her pocket, and was ready to go look for Severus. It wasn't long before she spotted him a short distance from her on the Quidditch pitch. A dark-haired woman was standing much too close to him to suit Welkin. She squinted at them. "That better not be who I think it is," she told Hermione, Ginny and Luna as they strolled up to her.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked. 

"That woman with Severus," Welkin pointed.

"Huldra Helliwell?" Hermione asked. "We did just see her with Professor Snape." 

"Did she have her hands anywhere near him?" Welkin asked, narrowing her eyes again.

"Well, he was trying to stay away from her, I think," Hermione said. 

"She was _all_ over him!" Ginny reported breathlessly. "She's notorious for seducing other women's husbands," she added helpfully.

The Weasley twins, and Harry and Ron, still wearing their Quidditch gear, arrived as they were reporting to Welkin.

"Yes," Fred Weasley confirmed, happy to stir the pot a little more. "She was like a female octopus." He made a lot of suggestive writhing gestures with his arms in illustration. "She was all over him. I don’t think Snape…I mean, Professor Snape, can handle her for long."

They all looked at Welkin expectantly. They didn’t have long to look. "That man-eating bitch!" she exploded, fueled by equal parts of jealousy, and the firewhisky she’d consumed. She removed her snake bracelet and handed it to Hermione. "Watch this for me." Welkin took off across the muddy field at a fast pace.

They all looked at each other, and took off after her.

* * *

Snape removed Huldra’s hands from his person yet again. "Do not touch me again in that manner," he insisted. "I am a happily married man, and I have no desire to take a mistress. My wife is, I assure you, all the woman I will ever need."

"Am I not beautiful, Severus? Look at me." She stroked her body suggestively, thrusting her breasts forward as she did. "Look at what I’m offering you. My family is pureblood. I can’t believe you prefer that common little Muggle over me." Huldra threw her arms around his neck, and tried to kiss him.

With relief, Snape saw Welkin approaching them at a run. With alarm, he saw the others who were following her.

Welkin skidded to a stop, grabbed Huldra by her dark, perfectly coiffed hair, and yanked her away from Snape, hard. Huldra shrieked in pain.

"Keep your fucking, slimy, man-stealing hands off my husband!" Welkin shouted. A circle of people started to form, drawn by the commotion, and by Fred Weasley happily shouting, "Catfight!"

"I’m not going to tell you again." Welkin pointed at her. "Don’t be touching my property!"

Her property? Snape certainly liked the sound of that. He would have to remember it for the next time Welkin complained to him about his possessive attitude toward her.

"He prefers _me!_ " Huldra insisted. "Why would he want you, when he can have a beautiful witch like me?"

"Maybe because he doesn’t want a second-rate slut, who has been fucked by every wizard in town, and probably has more venereal diseases than all the girls in a two dollar whore house," Welkin announced, her hands on her hips, aggressively staring Huldra down.

With a roar of anger, Huldra drew her wand. 

"Expelliaramus!" Snape shouted the Disarming Charm, as he drew his own wand with lightning speed, knocking Huldra’s wand from her hand. It spiraled into the air, and fell to the muddy ground. Huldra and Welkin both dived for it, Welkin reaching it first. Welkin rose to her feet with it, turned and threw it away over the heads of the crowd who had gathered around them.

"Let’s see how brave you are without your wand," Welkin said, steeled by anger. "Let’s see how you do in a _fair_ fight." Welkin gestured towards her with her hands, urging her forward. "Bring it on, bitch!"

Huldra rushed at her with another roar. Welkin shifted to the side with agile ease, and caught her by the back of her hair again, yanking her back, and punching her squarely in the nose with her right fist. Blood spurted freely, and Huldra fell to her knees in the mud, wailing and holding her broken nose.

As Welkin moved closer, she suddenly lunged at her, grabbing her by the ankle, and managed to topple her. Welkin fell on her back and Huldra leapt to straddle her. They wrestled, rolling on the muddy ground, getting their clothing and hair caked with the mire, clawing and scratching at one another - Huldra shrieking like a banshee, and Welkin shouting a string of obscenities at her that even Severus had never heard her use before.

Hermione looked shocked. Ginny was grinning and shouting encouragement at Welkin. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, looked at the muddy, brawling, cursing Welkin, looked back at each other, and announced humorously in stereo, "I think I’m _in love_ …"

"My money’s on Welkin," Fred added, "Any takers?" 

Albus strolled over to Snape, keeping one eye on the catfight. "Which one is Welkin?" he asked conversationally. They were so muddy it was hard to tell.

"The one on top, at the moment," Snape said, looking pleased, obviously enjoying the sight of Welkin fighting over him. 

"Ah, yes. I recognize her…" Albus trailed off, reluctant to admit he had recognized her by her ass.

A gasp from the crowd brought their attention fully back to the fight. Huldra, now on top, had drawn a dagger she had concealed beneath her clothing, and was attempting to stab Welkin with it, as Welkin struggled against her.

Snape lifted his wand hastily, alarmed, but before he could act, he heard Lucius shout, "Expelliaramus!" and watched the jeweled dagger go whirling aloft, falling to the ground. Hermione Granger ran forward to retrieve it.

Welkin scanned the crowd quickly and, with amazement, saw Lucius Malfoy, his wand still in hand. He shrugged at her with a sheepish smile on his face, and re-sheathed his wand inside his cane.

Turning her attention back to Huldra, who was now pinned securely beneath her, Welkin grabbed and twisted her broken nose painfully. "That’s for trying to kill me, bitch," she told her as Huldra let loose a fresh howl of pain. Welkin got off her and stood up, jerking the bruised and battered witch to her feet. "Listen to me, skank. I want you to know one thing for certain. If you _ever_ try to touch Severus again, or even so much as speak to him, I’ll break every bone in your fucking body, not just your snooty, stuck-up nose." She pushed her away as she released her, glowering at her.

Huldra, caked with mud and blood, recoiled from Welkin, and started to limp away, keeping one eye on her warily. She picked up speed until she was traveling in a running limp, and disappeared across the far side of the Quidditch pitch.

Welkin, also sporting some minor injuries, and a limp, started to go to Severus, paused, turned around, and limped over to Lucius instead.

"I don’t know why you did it, and I don’t care to know, but thank you," she told him. She turned and limped back to Severus, without waiting for a response. She just wanted to give the devil his due.

"You’re getting to be a hell of a lot of trouble, do you know that?" Welkin told Snape.

"The question is, am I worth it?" Snape asked. "I believe that I am," he added immodestly. "Obviously, you do as well."

Welkin laughed loudly, the dried mud cracking on her skin, and dropping to the ground. Hermione approached to hand her back her bracelet, which Welkin slid back onto her left wrist. "I think my ankle is sprained," Welkin told Snape. "I’m not sure I can make it back to the castle unless you help me."

Snape proudly swept her up in his arms, and started carrying her back. The circle of people parted to let them through.

"Just don’t expect me to defend your honor like this at every Quidditch match," she warned him. "Hey, can we stop and see if there are any more apple fritters left?"

* * *

Snape healed Welkin’s sprained ankle first, then turned his attention to her minor bruises as she sat in the bath, rinsing the final traces of mud from her face and hair. "You always seem to be patching me up," Welkin said.

"I like to keep my property in good working order," Snape told her. 

"Your property?" Welkin frowned. 

"Wasn’t that what you called me?" Snape demanded. 

"Well, yes, but…" 

"Then by your own admission, you are also my property, and you can no longer deny that," Snape concluded with a pleased smirk.

"That’s not fair, to use those words against me. I was angry when I said that," Welkin pouted. "I was trying to get my point across to your ‘old friend’, " she protested.

"Life is not fair," Snape told her crisply. "You said it, and now you must acknowledge the logic of my conclusion. If you consider me to be your property, then I also have leave to consider you mine."

"Oh, alright!" Welkin gave up. "I’m your… _property_ ," she said through gritted teeth. "But I still don’t have to do everything you say," she told him, standing up and stepping out of the tub. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, heading for the bedroom, with Snape trailing after her.

"I think we should discuss my property rights," Snape said, as she retrieved a baby-blue nightgown from the dresser, and headed back to the bathroom. The door slammed in his face as he attempted to follow, and he heard the lock click.

Welkin towel-dried her hair, put on her nightgown, and brushed her teeth. When she emerged from the bathroom, she nearly ran into Severus, who was still standing in front of the door, but was now clad in his nightshirt. "As I was saying…"

"I don’t want to hear another damn word about your property rights tonight," Welkin told him. "I’m going to bed."

"An excellent idea," Snape agreed. 

"I’m going to bed…to _sleep_ ," Welkin emphasized. She threw back the coverlet on her side of the bed and crawled in, closing her eyes immediately, leaving Snape looking nonplussed.

Snape finally crawled in on his side. "But, you just fought for me," he said. He rolled over close to her, leaning over her shoulder expectantly. "Do you not wish to claim your prize?" Welkin ignored him, yawning. "Wife, I have need of you," Snape said, employing his code phrase for needing sex, which had always worked before.

"If you think I’m just going to roll over and spread my legs for you every time you say that, you’re sadly mistaken," Welkin told him.

"Then, I shall just have to exercise my property rights," Snape said, grasping her by the waist, and forcefully rolling her onto her back. 

"Hey! Stop that!" Welkin struggled with him as he positioned himself on top of her, pinning her to the bed easily. "Don’t you dare force yourself on me," she warned, wriggling beneath him, which only served to arouse him. 

"Or, what?" he asked snidely. "It appears to me that you are in no position to negotiate such a demand. You are my wife, and that gives me certain privileges," he told her, his face just inches from hers.

"And you’re stronger than me, right? You can just take what you want. You don’t have to consider how I feel, or what I want, at all." Welkin’s voice was quiet and even. There was no smile on her face. "Take me then, if you think it will give you pleasure." She focused her eyes on the ceiling, doing a fine job of playing the martyr.

With a curse, Snape released her, and rolled off her onto his back, one arm flung across his high forehead, following her example by staring up at the ceiling, as if the answer to his confusion was written there. "I do not understand," he admitted. "You respond with pleasure when I am dominant in our lovemaking. You fight for me, and announce in public that I am your property. You admit that you are mine as well. I tell you that I have need of you, and yet you reject me."

"I’m not rejecting you, Severus. I’m rejecting your attitude. I’m trying to get you to understand that there has to be something in this bed besides your need for sex, or mine, for that matter," she added, trying to be fair about it. "I'm telling you that, if I _am_ your property, it’s by _my_ choice that I am, not because it’s my duty. Do you really think the only reason I fought for you today is because I like having sex with you?"

"No. I thought that you fought for me because you have love for me," he responded quietly, as if he were no longer sure of that. 

"Exactly!" Welkin rolled to her side towards him, elbow bent and her head propped up by her hand. "I love you, Severus. I’d like to think you feel the same about me."

"But, I have said it to you," Snape protested, and he turned to face her as well, unconsciously mirroring her pose. 

"That one time," Welkin said. "I haven’t heard you say it since then, without my prompting it, even though I’ve told you repeatedly that I love you."

"I had thought you would know it by my actions." 

"I do, but it would be nice to hear it too, every now and again." 

Snape considered her words. "I have love for you, Welkin, and I think I understand what you have said. My property rights do not supersede yours. They are equal. I am agreeable to that."

"Good," Welkin said. "I'm glad you understand." She hoped he really did, and wasn't just saying it to humor her.

"We do not have to engage in lovemaking tonight, if you really do not wish to, even though my need of you is great," he added. "I shall abide by your decision, however difficult it might be for me." It was his turn to play the martyr now, obviously.

You smooth bastard, Welkin thought. You know exactly what effect you’re having on me, saying that. He always managed to find the chink in her armor when she was angry with him.

"You know what?" Welkin told him, smiling at him tolerantly, now that he had managed to extinguish her annoyance at him. "Why don’t you just come here and kiss me, and we’ll see where that takes us?"

* * *


	13. Welkin and the Great Misconception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin confronts Snape about his lie when she learns that she is pregnant. Albus hosts an evening out in Hogsmeade as a celebration.

* * *

"I’m what?" Welkin asked, positive she must have heard her wrong. 

"You are with child," the Hogwarts nurse repeated patiently. 

"That just can’t be," Welkin protested. Welkin had come to the nurse because she’d skipped her period a month ago, but she hadn’t anticipated this as the reason.

"I assure you, it can be, and it is. My congratulations to you and your husband, Mrs. Snape." She beamed at Welkin.

"But, I’m under a protective charm. I _can’t_ be pregnant," Welkin insisted again stubbornly.

Madam Pomfrey looked confused, and then laughed at her. "Oh, my dear, surely you haven’t been depending on those old wives tales for advice about contraception? There’s no such thing as an anti-pregnancy charm." She straightened her nurse’s hat, and went to her cupboard to retrieve some pre-natal vitamin infusions for Welkin. "I believe you are merely being humorous, since I see by your tests that you’ve been taking Mandrake root for fertility," she told her. "There was really no need for that. You were already pregnant, apparently, before you ingested it."

"But, Severus said…" The truth finally dawned on her, and Welkin’s incredulous look changed to one of fury.

"That asshole! He _lied_ to me! He _planned_ this! He’s going to wish he never met me, much less married me!" she promised, bolting out the door like a streak of lightning, headed straight for the Potions Lab.

* * *

Ron Weasley stole a look at the clock, as Snape droned on and on. Just fifteen more minutes to go. _THWAK!_ Snape’s book struck lightly against the back of Ron’s head, doing no real harm, but startling him, as usual. "Watching your future slip away from you again, Mr. Weasley?" Snape admonished him to pay attention in his class, with his withering remark.

The door was suddenly flung open, and Welkin burst through, a furious look on her face.

"Severus…Tobias…Snape!" She walked towards him slowly, spitting out his name. "You are a fucking liar!"

After they were married, one of the things Snape had asked Welkin not to do, was to ever try to interfere with his teaching methods. As usual, this interruption went well beyond interference.

"Class is dismissed!" Welkin yelled, somewhat belatedly. 

"Stay…where…you…are," Snape told his students quietly. 

"Okay, if you insist on airing this in public, maybe your students _do_ need to know what a bald-faced liar their professor is."

Welkin turned to face his class and, arms folded, asked them the pop quiz question of the day: "How many of you know that there’s no such thing as an anti-pregnancy charm?" Every hand in the room slowly went up. Welkin turned back to Snape, and slowly raised her own hand, glaring at him accusingly.

"I never exactly told you that there was," Snape said defensively. 

"And you never exactly told me that there _wasn’t_ , either. It’s a lie by omission."

"The necessary precautions can be taken in the future," Snape told her. "There is no need to discuss this here, Welkin."

"It’s a little late for discussion _now!_ " 

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, blinking at her thickly. 

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? You’re a smart man, Pro-fess-or. Two and two still make four, don't they? Or, in this case, one and one make _three_." 

A look of genuine surprise attached itself to Snape’s face, although, considering that he had orchestrated her present condition, it shouldn’t have.

"You are…?" 

"Pregnant! Knocked up! With child! Up the duff! In the family way! Renting out the guest room! On stork watch! I’ve got _your_ bun in _my_ oven! Do you want it in sign language? Do I have to draw you a picture?"

"Class is dismissed! Out! Out! Everyone, out!" Snape insisted, when his students didn’t move fast enough to suit him.

The excited buzz of whispers, concerning the unexpected new gossip item, followed Snape's students out the door, and down the hallway.

"Well, there they go, to spread the _joyous_ news," Welkin said wryly, a frown on her face. "Everybody will be congratulating you on your potency within the hour, I would imagine."

She waved Snape off as he approached her. "Don’t, you… _touch_ me, right now. It wouldn’t be prudent." The fact that Welkin used the qualifier phrase 'right now' sounded somewhat encouraging to Snape. He assumed it meant he might be allowed to touch her at some time in the future.

Welkin sat down on the bench at one of the front desks and slumped. Snape leaned back on the desk across the aisle from her, his arms crossed, waiting for her to speak again.

"Why would you lie to me like that, Severus?" she finally asked, sounding a little calmer. "At the very least, I didn’t think you would _ever_ do that about something this important."

Snape thought about all the things that he had to, of necessity, keep secret from Welkin, and he felt a pang of guilt. At the least, he owed her honesty now, on this one thing.

"I thought that, were you carrying my child, it might bond you more closely to me, and I would be less likely to lose you," he admitted quietly.

That was usually a desperate female ploy. To get pregnant, to try to hold onto some man who didn’t really want you, Welkin thought with surprise. Was Severus really so unsure of her, that he felt he had to trick her into staying with him?

"Why didn’t you tell me after we were married, when there still would have been time to prevent this from happening?"

"By that time, the lie was firmly entrenched in your mind, and I simply could not think of a way of removing it without risking your rejection. I was still…"

"Unsure of me?" Welkin asked sadly, already knowing the answer. Why else would he continue his surreptitious efforts to impregnate her, employing the Mandrake Soup as a fertility agent? Always, it came back to his fear of rejection, Welkin realized.

Severus had shared much more with her, by now, about his relationship with Lily, as had Albus, and she knew they had been childhood friends, and they had a falling out over Snape’s involvement with the Dark Arts, and the Death Eaters. After that, Lily had refused to forgive him, after he had called her a Mudblood, and she had chosen James Potter over Severus. It had devastated Severus, who had loved her devotedly since childhood. Then, James and Lily were killed, with Lily sacrificing herself to save Harry, who was just a baby at the time. That’s how Harry came to bear the lightning mark scar on his forehead, and got the appellation the _'Chosen One,'_ because he had survived the attack. Severus had supplied information on a prophesy to Voldemort, the Dark Lord, which had set the tragic sequence of events in motion. He had no way of knowing that supplying the prophesy to the Dark Lord would result in Lily’s death.

The guilt must have been unbearable, Welkin thought. Lily had apparently haunted him ever since. He had been an emotional prisoner of his guilt, and his unrequited love for Lily, though outwardly, people only saw the sarcastic, bitter, and often cruel, man that he had become.

Snape hesitantly moved from his standing position, to take a seat on the bench next to Welkin, still not touching her, as she had requested.

She turned her head to look at him. "Lily Evans really did a number on your head, didn’t she? Maybe not intentionally, but she left her scars, nonetheless. If we’re ever going to make a go of this marriage, you have to try to get over that.

"Lily couldn’t forgive you your mistakes, but I will. Lily chose James Potter, but I chose you. Lily left you, but I never will, no matter what," Welkin told him fiercely. "I guess I’ll just have to keep telling you that, until it finally sinks in, if it ever does. _I’m_ the woman you were meant to be with, Severus, _not_ Lily," Welkin told him. "If you prefer a ghost, to a flesh and blood woman who loves you, then I guess that will be _my_ great misfortune."

"I do _not_ prefer…Lily." Severus still said her name with difficulty. "It would not only be your misfortune, it would be mine as well. I love you, Welkin," he assured her.

"Then, act like it, damn it! Stop basing everything you do, for the rest of your life, on some dream of lost love!" Welkin was angry, frustrated, and sad, all at the same time. " _Live_ with me, Severus. Here, now, in the flesh - in reality. I need you here with me, now more than ever.

"I have every reason to leave you, after you’ve deceived me like this. But, I’m still here, aren't I? I’m still here, because I _want_ to be, because I _love you_ , and because I forgive you for making the horrendous mistake of lying about something so serious. A child is not a game pawn. You, of _all_ people, should realize that, because you’re a teacher. End of lecture - class dismissed," Welkin said a little wearily.

"If you do not wish to…carry this child…under the circumstances, I will understand," Snape hesitantly told her, while hoping fervently that it was not the case. He hoped that she would not punish his child, for his mistake.

"Of course, I’m having our baby. There was never any question of that," Welkin replied evenly, obviously resolved. Welkin was not a woman to dither over decisions. She made them quickly. As angry as she was, she had made this one on her march to the Potions Lab, to confront him about it. "Although, how the hell I’m going to _handle_ it, once it’s here, I haven’t the faintest clue. I don’t have the slightest experience with babies. Correction: How the hell _we_ are going to handle it, _together_ , I don't know. I’m certainly _not_ planning on doing this all by myself."

"You will not have to," Severus assured her. "I am the child's father, and I shall never shirk my duties, to you, or to our child."

Maybe a baby wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, Welkin thought, trying to be optimistic. She would have liked a little more time to adjust to marriage with Severus, but there was no use making an issue of that now. The little wizarding bastard was already on the way. The bun was in the oven, and there was no un-baking it. Once again, Welkin’s wishes were a moot point, where Severus Snape was concerned. She’d just have to be flexible, and make the adjustment.

Welkin scooted closer to Severus on the bench. "You can touch me now, if you still want to, after all my lecturing. I’m not feeling quite as volatile as I was. I’m sorry I disrupted your class. I was really mad at you."

"The cause was more than sufficient," Snape replied. "It is of no consequence." 

Snape put his arm around Welkin’s shoulders, relieved that she was still there beside him, and they sat quietly on the bench together, two flesh and blood people, dispelling ghosts.

* * *

"When is the child due?" Minerva asked. 

"End of October, I’m told," Welkin said, eyeing all of their drinks jealously. It looked like she wouldn’t be having anything alcoholic to drink for a very long time. This baby was already a pain in the ass, and it hadn’t even been born yet.

Welkin took a long drink from her ice-cold glass of milk, and pretended it was a _White Russian_. Snape reached over with his napkin, to solicitously dab away the milk mustache from her upper lip.

"Do you know the sex of the child?" Dumbledore asked. Wizarding methods of determining pregnancy, and gender of an unborn, were able to be performed much earlier, and with more accuracy, than Muggle methods.

"Yes," Welkin said. She drummed her pale coral fingernails on the tabletop, humming a little tune, and wondering when those appetizers were going to arrive.

Enjoying the evening out, in the magical village of Hogsmeade, was Dumbledore’s idea, to celebrate Welkin’s pregnancy.

"You had not told me this. That you know the child’s gender," Snape said. 

"You didn’t ask." She continued humming, nonchalantly. 

"Well?" Minerva asked for the three of them, as they all looked at her impatiently.

"Oh, it’s a boy. A little wizard, I guess you would say here," Welkin announced.

"A son to carry on the Snape name, and the Prince bloodline, Severus!" Albus clapped him on the back in congratulations, and Snape looked pleased.

Welkin rolled her eyes. "Why is anything with a penis automatically considered, by you men, to be so much more special, than anything with a vagina?" she asked rhetorically.

"Well spoken," Minerva seconded, clinking glasses with Welkin. 

"No offense intended," Albus said. "It is the ladies who bring the best of everything to our lives, for which we are eternally grateful. I propose a toast, to the beautiful two who grace our table with their presence tonight." He and Snape clinked their glasses together, and then downed their firewhisky.

"Is he always like that?" Welkin whispered to Minerva from behind her hand, as the men ordered another round. "Full of excessively complimentary bullshit, I mean?"

"Oh, usually he’s _much_ worse," Minerva whispered back. 

They both burst into laughter, just as the appetizers finally arrived.

* * *

After dinner, Albus insisted they all continue their celebration at the bar, where Welkin was restricted to iced herbal tea, flavored with lemon. Minerva nursed another glass of wine, and the two men ordered round after round of firewhisky.

Albus and Severus toasted in honor of his son, who Severus seemed certain would be sorted into Slytherin House, without a doubt. They toasted Welkin, apparently for supplying the oven, which was currently playing host to Snape's precious little bun. They toasted Slytherin House, and every other house at Hogwarts. In fact, they toasted every errant thought that crossed Albus Dumbledore's mind, whether it made sense or not. 

Welkin had never seen Severus drink so much before, and was a little ashamed to admit to herself that she was less worried about him, than curious about the effect it would have on him. It certainly would be worth the bar bill, if it helped loosen up those buttons of his a little bit.

When it was time to go home, she and Minerva had to help pour their respective 'dates' into the carriage, for the ride back to Hogwarts.

All the way back, Dumbledore kept imploring Minerva to _"give us a little kiss, love,"_ and trying to blow in her ear, among other familiarities. Welkin noticed that Minerva seemed to be enjoying the struggle a little, despite her protests to Albus.

Severus kept rambling on about the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for awhile, and all the 'twits' who got it, when he really, truly deserved it. Then he abruptly switched to some rather paranoid ramblings, about how Harry Potter was out to get him. In both cases, he was slurring some of his words rather badly.

"Don’t you worry about that, sweetie. Welkin will save you from the big, bad, Harry Potter," she humored him. "She won’t let the nasty little boy say mean things about you anymore. She’s going to beat him with a big stick, until he promises not to," Welkin told him brightly.

Severus smiled his first really broad smile at her. A pity that it took promising to beat Harry Potter to do it, Welkin thought.

Snape’s attention was suddenly drawn to the struggles in the other half of the carriage, and then he looked at Welkin.

Oh, oh, she thought. She knew that look all too well. Only, this time, he was actually showing teeth when he smiled at her.

"I think I need a little of that Defense Against the Dark Arts training myself," Welkin told him, as she tried to fend off his suddenly amorous advances.

When the carriage finally arrived at Hogwarts, Welkin asked Filch to call some of the prefects to help escort the gentlemen to their quarters.

"Thank you both for a lovely evening," Welkin told Minerva politely. Minerva merely rolled her eyes in response, her witches hat still slightly askew, from her struggles with Albus.

Two prefects supported Albus on his way to his chambers, while two more young men supported Snape on his somewhat unsteady feet. He looked at each of them hazily, and announced quite loudly, "I’m having a baby!"

"That’s funny," one of them said. "You don’t look pregnant, Professor Snape." 

Welkin stifled a laugh. "Now, boys, please don’t tease him. He doesn’t take it well - from anyone except me, that is."

"Sorry, ma’am." 

Welkin had the prefects get them to the outer door of their chambers, thanked them, and took Snape the rest of the way inside herself. The boys were obviously itching to see what was inside, but Severus valued his privacy, and she thought it best to deny them at least that source of gossip tonight.

Lying on the comforter, Snape looked up at Welkin hovering over him, as she began to undress him for bed. "I’m having a baby," he announced again, smiling at her.

"Really? How far apart are the contractions?" 

"And you’re going to beat Harry Potter with a stick for me." He smiled that broad, happy smile again.

"Yes, dear…a very BIG stick!" 

That boy really gets under your skin, doesn’t he? Welkin thought. He probably reminds him of James Potter. Obviously, they still had a lot of work to do on Severus’s issues vis-a-vis the Potter family.

Welkin finally managed to get Severus stripped down to his shorts, and positioned a little less sprawled out on the bed, before she heard him quietly snoring. "He looks kind of sweet, lying there all snockered to the gills," she told herself, ruffling his already messy hair.

With no one else to talk to, Welkin got ready for bed herself. She found another comforter, and spread it over Severus. She put a log on the fire in the fireplace, and then crawled under the comforter with her 'pregnant', snoring, drunken husband, who was, no doubt, dreaming happily about her beating Harry with a stick, but wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow.

* * *


	14. The Pregnancy: Tales From the Darkside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vignettes of Welkin's trials and tribulations coping with Severus through the course of her pregnancy. Albus offers her training in the Magical Arts, and Welkin goes through the formality of being sorted by the Sorting Hat. Welkin has a very disturbing dream.

* * *

"No! I don’t want it! Please, don’t make me drink that again, Severus." 

"Professor Sprout assures me that it is very good for the baby," Snape said, looking determined.

"But it tastes like… _dead things!_ I won’t drink more of it! I won't! You can’t make me!"

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, Welkin thought, backing up as he approached her stubbornly, with a full glass of the horrid green stuff.

"You are carrying my child, and you _will_ drink this. You are not leaving this room until you do."

"No!" 

Snape grabbed Welkin, and pinched her nostrils shut, until she had to open her mouth to breathe, then managed to pour a big gulp of the nasty stuff down her throat, making her gag. He clapped his hand over her mouth, to prevent her from spitting some of it out.

"I can continue to do this, until it is gone," he threatened. "Or, you can show some reason, and drink it like an adult."

"Oh, _alright_! Give me the damn stuff!" Welkin finished the glass in three big gulps, and then clapped her own hand over her mouth, until she no longer felt like vomiting. "Satisfied?" She glared at him.

"Very." He smirked, as he took the glass from her. "You shall have one of these each night, for the next several weeks," he announced, sounding quite pleased with himself.

"Oh, God! This is just like something out of _Rosemary’s Baby!_ That part where they make her eat the chocolate mousse, and then the devil rapes her. You really _are_ the devil, aren’t you?"

"I would never force myself upon you, Welkin." Snape pulled her into his lap, and stroked her hair soothingly, now that she had done what was required for the health of their child.

"Well, I don't see why not. It would be a hell of a lot better than that awful green crap you just force-fed me!"

* * *

"Will you _please_ stop feeling of my stomach? He’s not going to kick again, I'm telling you. I just want to go to sleep."

"I am merely concerned that perhaps the child should be more active at this stage of development. I intend to hold my hand here, until I feel him kick," Snape told her, sounding like the neurotic, obsessive idiot that Welkin was beginning to suspect him of being.

"I’m going to kick the crap out of you myself, if you don’t stop obsessing about this, Severus. And then, when the baby’s seventeen, I’m going to tell _him_ to kick the crap out of you too…"

* * *

"I told you, his name is Aloysius." Welkin had no intention of naming the baby Aloysius, but for some reason, Severus detested the name. It annoyed him when she said she would name the baby that, so she kept insisting she would, every time he started to badger her about the subject of names.

"You are _not_ naming my child Aloysius, and that is final." Snape fumed at her, his lips tightly compressed.

"Well, I’m not naming him Severus. Besides, he likes Aloysius. He practically leapt in my womb with joy, the first time I told him that would be his name. We can call him Al for short…Al Snape." Welkin turned her head away to smile, so that Severus wouldn’t see.

* * *

"He’s going to have dark hair and eyes, like his father, with my complexion, and he’s going to be a very great wizard, someday. Maybe he'll be an even greater wizard than his father is."

"Is that a prediction, Welkin?" Albus asked thoughtfully. 

"Well, it’s…just something I know. I just feel it." 

"Which actually brings me to the reason I wanted to talk to you," Dumbledore said. "The Ministry has decided that, because of your bloodline, you shall receive tutoring in the Magical Arts. You will not be an officially enrolled student, mind you, but you will receive the same instruction, and will be subject to testing."

"That actually sounds pretty interesting," Welkin said eagerly. "I’ve been so bored, just sitting around here getting fatter and fatter with this baby. I think I’d like that." 

Her enthusiasm surprised Dumbledore, who failed to mention to her that he was the one who had pushed the Ministry for this training for her. Add that one to the growing list of things he'd failed to mention to her, that he had arranged, or pushed for, where she and Severus were concerned.

"Will I have a wand?" 

"If one chooses you, yes." 

"Will I have to ride a broom?" Welkin hesitated. 

"I don’t think that would be wise at this stage, considering your condition," Dumbledore said. "Your instruction will be very basic until after the baby is born. Very academic. Practical application will have to wait, for now."

"Then, let’s _do_ this thing!" Welkin grinned. She was definitely ready for this new phase in her life.

* * *

"Is this wise?" Snape asked, with a worried look on his face, as Welkin sat on a tall stool in the Great Hall, preparing to have the ancient Sorting Hat placed on her head.

"No harm will come to her, Severus. It is a formality only, but it is one that the Ministry, nonetheless, insists upon. She shall continue to reside with you, regardless of which house is chosen for her, if one is chosen at all," Dumbledore assured him.

Welkin sat looking around at the students, faculty, and officials all gathered for her Sorting. It was unusual in many respects, especially since it was being done nearly at the end of a school term. Welkin waved to a few people she knew, smiling, and looking cool and unconcerned.

The Sorting Hat was placed on Welkin's head. There was a long pause, then… 

"Hmmmm," the Sorting Hat pondered. "Interesting - there is another…" It was obviously referring to the baby.

"Yes, there is. I’m pregnant," Welkin informed the Hat. "Perhaps you know the father? Professor Severus Snape?"

"Yes…Severus Snape…I remember him...a rather odd boy." 

"A rather odd man, too, at times, but a great one," Welkin said proudly. "He’s definitely a keeper. I wouldn’t ever want anyone else."

Welkin was talking to the Sorting Hat conversationally, as if it was an old friend, which amused Dumbledore, but astonished others in the Great Hall.

"You are older than the accustomed student," the Hat observed. 

"What can I say? I’m a late bloomer," Welkin quipped. 

"Hmmmm," the Hat said again, studying her. "Intelligence…charm and wit…great bravery…resourceful…impulsive, and quick to anger…stubborn…a little devious…great tenacity of spirit…great loyalty…Hmmmm…this one...hard to say...the attributes so evenly divided…your choice," the Hat concluded.

"My choice?" Welkin pondered briefly. "Then, I stand with my husband. I choose Slytherin."

"So shall it be. Bring the child back when he is of age. Very…interesting family," the Hat made its final observation.

"Thank you," Welkin said, though she wasn’t quite sure how that last comment was meant. "It’s been a pleasure wearing you," she said politely.

The Sorting Hat was removed, and Welkin, now well into her fourth month of pregnancy, put her hand on her stomach in an unconscious protective gesture, as she got down from the high stool.

"That’s one hell of a woman you’ve got yourself there," Mad-Eye Moody told Snape. Moody was appreciative of Welkin's aplomb and loyalty to Snape, whether Snape deserved it or not.

"Obviously," Snape agreed proudly.

* * *

"I know they say your breasts get bigger when you’re pregnant, but this is ridiculous looking," Welkin said. "I’m popping out of all my bras," she said with annoyance. " _Look_ at this," she insisted, indicating her excess cleavage to Snape.

"You were never what I would call small," Snape told her, as he appreciatively viewed the breasts in question. 

"I know, but they were more like grapefruits, not melons. None of my bras fit anymore," Welkin complained again. "You’ll just have to get me some new ones."

" _I_ shall? I would not know where to begin. They are _your_ breasts, after all. You should be the one to secure the coverings for them," Snape protested.

"They may be mine, but you certainly get the benefit of them every night. You’ve gotten as obsessed with them as you have about rubbing my belly all the time. Anyway, I would if I had time, but I’m working out my class schedule with Albus today. Get Minerva to go with you, if you need help," she instructed. "Here. I wrote down my measurements for you. Get some nursing bras too. I’m going to need those, when the baby is born."

* * *

"Never ask me to do that again." Snape snapped at her, setting down the brightly colored bag he was carrying. Reluctant to ask anyone to accompany him, he had undertaken the effort to purchase new undergarments for Welkin on his own, and it had been one of the most mortifying experiences of his married life thus far.

"Why? What happened?" 

"I do not wish to discuss it," Snape told her. "Suffice it to say, I felt very out of place in that establishment."

"Oh, but you did a good job," she assured him, examining his purchases, and holding them up to herself to check the fit. "Oh, my! What do we have here?" Welkin drew out the lacy black pushup bra, trimmed in red rosettes. "This doesn’t look like a nursing bra. Unless you’re the one who plans on doing the nursing," Welkin teased.

"I thought it was the least I deserved, considering the humiliation I suffered while making these purchases," Snape complained.

"I'm sorry you were so embarrassed. But you really did do a good job, Sweetness. Don’t you worry, Sevvy. You’re going to be justly rewarded for your humiliation tonight," Welkin promised.

* * *

Snape was propped up in bed in his nightshirt, waiting impatiently for Welkin to finish her preparations in the bathroom, and deliver his promised reward for his disturbing afternoon in the lingerie shop. He couldn’t complain that the frequency of their lovemaking had diminished, but its unrestrained vigor had been somewhat curtailed, owing to the need to consider the child she carried within her. Snape did very much miss that, and hoped it would resume quickly once his son was born.

Welkin emerged from the bathroom, in a completely sheer, loose black robe, the black and red bra visible underneath, and nothing else. She walked to the foot of the bed, loosened the ties of the robe at the neck, and pulled it apart to display herself to him, her stomach swollen with his child.

His cock began to swell, as she mounted the foot of the bed, and slowly crawled towards him like a cat, affording him the best view of her large, rounded breasts, straining against the lacy black fabric as she moved. By the time she reached him, he was nearly fully erect, and breathing harder.

Welkin suddenly realized he was wearing his old nightshirt, not the one she had bought for him, though this was his spring version, which was shorter, and just skimmed his knees. Him and his precious buttons, she thought, as she unbuttoned the top four buttons and pulled the fabric aside, kissing and nibbling at his throat.

Snape closed his eyes, and reveled in the tingling sensation that went through him, each time her lips touched him.

Welkin moved to the other side, and repeated her actions, finally pressing her lips to his, for a long, deep, wet kiss that left him dizzy with desire for her.

Sliding backwards, she grasped the hem of his nightshirt, and slowly folded it up, until he was exposed. Licking her lips, she went down on him, making guttural little noises of pleasure as she sucked. He was throbbing with the need for release, when she finally raised herself again, and reached around her back to unhook her bra and let it fall away.

She grasped her swollen breasts in each hand and knelt over him, pressing his cock, still wet from her saliva, between them. She began a fast up and down movement, massaging him as he groaned with pleasure, until she realized he was about to come, and released him. She quickly straddled his hips, and pressed his cock inside her, bouncing up and down to drive it in and out at a faster and faster pace. He reached out to her, and her fingers interlaced with his, their palms together, gripping each other tightly as first she, then he, achieved release.

Afterwards, they held each other, and declared their love in low tones. Welkin never tired of hearing it from him, just as she never tired of teasing him.

"Your son is certainly agitated tonight," she told Severus, pressing her belly against him, so that he could feel the continuous kicking. "I guess we woke him up. It must have been all the bouncing. Or maybe your cock poked him in the eye. He’s probably going to come out looking like Mad-Eye Moody."

"Is this an unusual amount of activity?" Snape was suddenly worried. "Should we do something?"

"Like what? Sign him up for the Quidditch team? He’s fine. He does this all the time. Particularly after we have sex."

"Perhaps we should attempt to restrain ourselves more when we make love," Snape said, not sounding at all enthused about the prospect.

"Fuck that!" Welkin said, to Snape’s relief. "Let the little bastard get used to it!"

"My son is not a bastard," Snape said, sounding offended. "We are lawfully wed."

"Don’t take everything I say so literally." Welkin laughed. "I meant bastard in only the most loving, maternal way. You know, as in, drink your milk, you little bastard…brush your teeth, you little bastard…stop playing with yourself, you little bastard. You’re just like your father."

"I do _not_ play with myself," Snape said haughtily. 

"Oh, really? Must I remind you of our little episode at Spinner’s End at Christmas?" Welkin smirked.

"You requested that of me. It was not of my own volition," he protested. 

"Well, I wasn’t holding a wand to your head, was I? Do you know what I think? I think you _liked_ it. I think it turned you on. I think we might have to do it _again_ …soon."

"I would really rather not," Snape requested, a little less full of himself than before.

"Yep. Maybe even tomorrow night." Welkin grinned at him evilly. "Goodnight, Sevvy…sweet dreams." God, how she loved to tease him. It was almost as good as the sex.

* * *

Welkin was not having sweet dreams. She was having a particularly terrifying one. No longer pregnant, she was alone, in a very dark, and dank place. There were no windows. The only light was from a flickering torch on one of the walls, which were constructed of heavy blocks of dark stone. She heard a scraping sound, as if something very large were slithering across the floor towards her on its belly, and she held her breath, not wanting whatever was in here with her to hear even that quietest of sounds from her. Please let it go away, she thought, wanting to close her eyes, but afraid to. The sound stopped. She waited. One minute, two, three. Alone in the dark. Or was she?

"Welkin?" She heard the familiar voice with relief. 

"Severus?" She stood up from her crouched position, and started feeling her way forward, her arms outstretched, searching for him in the gloom away from the torchlight. Her fingertips touched his chest and she exhaled with relief. "Thank God." A face suddenly loomed at her out of the blackness. It was not Severus. Her eyes widened as two pale, skeletal, taloned hands grasped her wrists, and started pulling her forward. Forward, towards the creature who was not her Severus. The creature that had once been a man, but now had the face of a snake. Welkin began to scream.

* * *

"Welkin!…Welkin!" Severus had to shake her awake to stop her screaming. When she awoke, she still held a wild-eyed look of sheer terror. She launched herself into his arms, and he held her against himself. "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, stroking her hair, which seemed to calm her a bit.

"Yes. It was just a bad dream," she repeated shakily. "That’s all it was." A terrible dream, she thought. Nothing like that could possibly be real. Could it? Still, Welkin couldn’t go back to sleep that night.

* * *


	15. The Birth: All Hallow's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin gives birth in a less than optimum location, on the same evening the Potters were killed by Voldemort, so many years prior to that.

* * *

Bundled against the cold, Welkin stood beside her husband, watching the students dance around the huge bonfire they had built for All Hallows Eve. Snape had his arm protectively around Welkin, and kept looking at her somewhat anxiously to gauge her level of discomfort, since the child she carried was due to be born any day now.

"We should go back inside," Snape told her. "You are shivering." 

"Not yet, please. I love Halloween. It’s such a mystical night. You just need to be outside in the midst of it to fully appreciate it. Can we please go for a walk in the moonlight before we go back in?"

Snape always found it difficult not to indulge her, and tonight was no exception, even though he thought it was unwise to stray very far from the castle. He escorted her into the woods, keeping to the pathway to prevent her from stumbling on uneven terrain.

"It’s so beautiful in the forest tonight, with the wind in the trees, and the leaves swirling around in the moonlight, and my handsome wizard beside me," Welkin narrated, her arm cradled in the crook of his as they walked.

Snape smiled his little smile, his head down, obsessively surveying the pathway for obstacles she might stumble on. He was not handsome, and he had known that for a very long time. But Welkin obviously thought differently, since she told him he was so often. It sometimes made him feel as if he really _were_ handsome, the way she looked at him, and said such things.

"What’s that over there?" Welkin asked, spying a gated area through the vines, just off the pathway that they were on.

"It is the Hogwarts Cemetery," he said. "Over the centuries, some of the Hogwarts faculty, and their families, have chosen to be buried here on the grounds."

"Can we go take a look at the stones? How far back does it go?" 

"At least six hundred years, possibly more," Snape said, hesitating. "We should go back now."

"Oh, please, Severus - what could be more perfect on Halloween than walking through a cemetery? We won’t stay long…"

* * *

Welkin was lying on Severus’s cloak, on top of a flat marble sarcophagus, inside the above-ground mausoleum in the center of the cemetery, cursing and gritting her teeth as another contraction hit her. Her own cloak had been thrown over her, and clustered around her were Severus, Albus, Minerva, and Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Snape had summoned Dumbledore when he realized that Welkin could not be moved, and Albus had brought the others with him.

Candlelight was the only illumination in the dark chamber, but Welkin could still see the look of concern on Severus’s face. She did not have time to reassure him at the moment, consumed as she was by her own discomfort and pain.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Welkin cursed again, pounding her fist against the marble as another, stronger contraction hit her. They were coming closer together now. She wanted to curl into a fetal ball against the pain, but the nurse had her knees bent and thighs parted. The lower portion of the cloak covering Welkin was pushed up, and the nurse was poised between her legs, awaiting the crowning of the baby’s head, and annoying the hell out of Welkin with copious words of cheerful encouragement.

"If only we had…" Snape began. 

"Don’t you _dare_ blame me for this again!" Welkin warned Snape. "How was I supposed to know that my water would break in the middle of the goddamn cemetery?" She grabbed his arm as another strong contraction made her grit her teeth again, and she dug her fingernails in. "Give me a potion for this pain, damn you! What kind of a fucking Potions Master are you - not carrying any potions on you?!"

Snape winced as her hard, well-manicured fingernails pierced his skin through his jacket, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the nurse interrupted him.

"There’s the head, my dear. It’s time to push. At the next contraction, I need you to do that." This might be especially difficult for her, the nurse thought. She did not have child-bearing hips. Welkin’s pelvic bones were closer together - not an optimum arrangement for a less painful and easy childbirth. Thankfully, her labor had been quick.

_I will not scream…I will not scream…_ Welkin chanted to herself in her head. _I will get through this without screaming like a child. I am a grown woman and I will not…_

The next contraction hit and Welkin sat up, propped on her elbows, and pushed as hard as she could. A pain unlike anything she had ever felt enveloped her body, and she screamed in agony, as the baby was forced partly out of her. It felt as if someone were ripping her insides out, and had thrust a sharp sword into her lower back at the same time. She fought against the pain, gritted her teeth even harder, and pushed again, with all the strength she had left. She felt the baby slide the rest of the way out, and she gratefully collapsed on her back on the hard marble surface and closed her eyes, exhausted by the ordeal.

From what seemed like a great distance away, she could hear the baby’s disgruntled wailing, as if he were as upset as Snape had been with her, when he had berated her about not listening to him after her water broke. His displeasure with her had been quite evident, when he had realized that he could not risk Apparition with her back to the castle, because of her condition, and the danger it might pose to the baby.

Poor baby, Welkin thought, to be brought into this world in such a cold, inhospitable place. But, after all, maybe that was okay. The world often _was_ a very inhospitable place. He might as well start getting used to it.

Snape’s pale, worried expression was the first thing Welkin focused on when she opened her eyes. He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. "Have you seen your son?" she asked with a weak smile. 

"No," he answered, seeming concerned only with her.

"Can I have our son?" Welkin requested, eager to present him to his father. "Bring him to me, please."

The nurse appeared with a small, tartan-wrapped bundle, the tartan cloth from Minerva’s scarf, as it turned out. She placed the bundle in Welkin’s arms, after Minerva rolled her own cloak into a pillow, and propped it under Welkin’s back to help support her in a sitting position.

"Congratulations, you two - he’s a beautiful boy," Minerva beamed. 

Welkin held the bundle carefully, and pushed back the cloth, until a pale little face appeared, then the top of the head, liberally covered in a messy shock of straight, black hair.

Snape leaned over, and peered down at the child curiously. 

Grimacing against the candlelight, Snape’s son suddenly opened his little eyelids, and gazed up hazily at him with deep black eyes, remarkably like his father’s, just as Welkin had predicted. He began to cry again, loudly and furiously.

"Oh, Sully, don’t you cry. That’s just Daddy. Do you think he’s scary? I felt the same way about him, when I first saw him. Scary ole Daddy loves you, Sully. Don’t you cry, little boy."

"Sully?" Snape asked. 

" _Sullivan Severus Snape_ ," Welkin announced rather grandly, with a proud smile. "Sullivan is Gaelic for _‘black eyes’_. We can call him Sully for short."

"An excellent name, don’t you think, Severus?" Dumbledore pounded him on the back.

"The name is quite…acceptable," Snape finally agreed. 

"Are you sure? Aloysius is still an option, if you don’t like Sullivan," Welkin said. Even as exhausted as she was, she still couldn’t help needling him a little.

She changed the subject before Snape could respond. "So, when are you getting me out of here? Even with the cloak under me, this marble is pretty cold on my bare ass."

* * *

"He has your nose and mouth," Snape observed, sitting propped up in bed next to Welkin the next night, with a book open in his lap. He watched as the baby suckled greedily at Welkin’s breast.

"I think it’s hard to tell about babies’ noses," she replied noncommittally. "In the beginning, they all look pretty much the same to me. Maybe he’ll have your nose later on, when he’s older." 

Snape grimaced at the prospect.

"Don’t you start that again, Severus. There’s nothing wrong with your nose. It’s a perfectly lovely, robust nose," Welkin told him. "I think it’s very manly," she critiqued. "I love looking at your nose in profile particularly. It has a certain nobility about it."

"You are a bit prejudiced," Snape countered, remembering all the hurtful names and snide remarks that had been directed at him as a student at Hogwarts, partly based on his personal appearance.

Welkin ignored his disbelief, and once again, changed the subject. "At any rate, I think he inherited your big cock. It looks large for a baby, don't you think? He’s going to be very popular with the ladies."

The favorable mention of his cock reminded Snape of something he had been selfishly looking forward to for months. He smiled, and put his book aside for the evening. "Is he finished?" he asked hopefully, noticing that the sucking movements seemed to be slowing, and the child appeared drowsy.

"I think so." Welkin carefully pulled his little mouth away from her nipple, and held him against her shoulder, rubbing his back until she was sure he was asleep. She got up to deposit Sully into the antique rosewood cradle, next to the bed, carefully covering him with a yellow blanket.

The cradle was a beautiful piece of handwork, which she and Severus had found in a shop in Hogsmeade, about a month before Sully was born. It was carved deeply with various floral motifs in a flowing, organic, art nouveau style, a style which both she and Severus favored.

Their bed, which Snape had acquired long before they married, and Welkin also loved, was carved in a similar style, but was also decorated with various fantastical and magical creatures in oblong frames that formed friezes around the bottom of the bed, and around the wood canopy at the top. A large, nearly three-dimensional serpent was carved in the dark wood in the center of the footboard. The snake was entwined about the trunk of a fruit-laden tree, with a nude female figure on the left and a nude male figure on the right - apparently meant to be a depiction of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. In the center of the headboard was a depiction of a celestial hemisphere, the night sky consisting of inlaid pieces of deep blue lapis lazuli, with shimmering mother-of-pearl forming various significant star patterns. The four posts supporting the canopy were massive, deeply fluted, and embellished with gold leafing inside the striations on the upper half of each. They looked like Egyptian columns to Welkin, each topped with a lotus flower design as the capital. 

It was a wonderfully exotic piece, Welkin had thought when she’d first seen it, surprised that Severus would have chosen something so hedonistic-looking for himself. He was such a conservative man in many ways. Many, but thankfully, not all. He was not that conservative at all when they were alone together in the privacy of their bedchamber.

Welkin had asked him if he had been expecting and anticipating her when he’d purchased the bed, she was so taken with it. He had replied that perhaps he had hoped for her arrival many times, but had never really expected it. It was the sort of comment that made her want to hug him close to her, because it was so uncharacteristically plaintive of him.

As she crawled back into bed now, she saw the way Severus was looking at her, and smiled. "What? Do you think it’s _your_ turn now?"

Snape waved his hand, and intoned some words to encircle the bed with his special version of the Silencio Charm. They would still be able to hear the baby, should he wake, but he would not be able to hear them, he explained to Welkin.

In the Muggle world, sex would be out of the question so soon after giving birth, but in the Wizarding World, certain methods and potions were often employed to accelerate the healing process to a remarkable degree - and, of course, Welkin _was_ married to the Hogwarts Potions Master, an incredibly talented man, when it came to such things.

"So, you didn’t have anything on hand to spare me the agony of childbirth, but you had no trouble at all finding the ingredients to fix me up so that you can have sex with me tonight. That’s pretty convenient for you, don't you think?" Welkin said.

"There would have been pain potions for you during childbirth, if you had followed my instructions and gone inside with me when I asked you to," Snape reminded her.

"I know. I know. I guess you were right." 

"Would you repeat that, please?" 

"You were _right_ ," she said begrudgingly. "Don’t rub it in." 

"Come here, my wife," Snape commanded. "I have great need of you." 

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Right away, sir," she said in a comically obsequious tone. "I’ll be honored to spread my legs for you. Just let me pull my nightie up, and flip it right over my head. You won’t even have to look at me, while you’re banging my twat."

"Enough!" Snape ordered. "You talk entirely too much." He held her wrists pinned against the headboard of the bed above her head, and began to kiss her neck, eliciting a deeply appreciative sigh of pleasure from Welkin. She hoped he gave it to her good and proper. It had been too many months since he had been able to be completely unrestrained with her.

"Oh, God, yes! That feels so good," Welkin enthused. "Are you sure you don’t want me to talk?"

Snape paused to pull his nightshirt over his head, and to reconsider. "You may express your appreciation of my lovemaking skills verbally, if you wish," he told her. "Although I doubt that you will still be very coherent, by the time I am finished with you," he smirked.

"One can only hope that I won't be," Welkin said. 

Snape returned to the pleasurable pursuit of kissing her throat, sending shivers down the length of her body. Welkin let her soft arms fall around his shoulders, stroking the taut muscles in his arms, than let her fingers and nails lightly trace patterns on his smooth back, before moving to the slightly rounded hardness of his butt cheeks. She dug her nails into his buttocks and felt him flinch, as his cock began to swell against her.

"Welkin, my sweet." He groaned against her throat. "Welkin, my love." His mouth sought hers, hungry and demanding, his tongue penetrating and exploring, jousting wetly with hers.

Snape encircled her with his arms and rolled her with him, positioning her on top of him. His smooth, strong hands worked the top of her smocked, white nightgown down, until she was naked from the waist up, her pale milk-laden breasts lying against his chest. He captured her face between his hands, and raised her head, to allow him to stare into her eyes.

"How does it feel when he suckles you?" he asked in his soft, seductive voice. "Does it pleasure you?"

"Yes, it does," Welkin admitted, recalling the shock she had felt when she first fed Sully, as his urgent little suckling motions tugged at her nipple, sending tiny tingles of pleasure through her.

"I would like to suckle you, and give you pleasure this way," Snape said, his black eyes glittering as his hands encircled her breasts, massaging them. "Would you like that?"

Her eyelids fluttered, and she moaned at the feel of his hands on her, firmly milking her breasts.

Severus took that as a yes. He slid down in the bed until he was flat on his back, Welkin above him, with her breasts dangling over his face. His tongue slathered wetly over her engorged right nipple, and then his mouth closed over it, encasing it in warmth. He began to suckle, imitating the rhythm he had observed as his son had suckled, but tugging at her with a firm, steady, sensual grasp. Welkin began to squirm and moan above him with pleasure. She pressed her pubic area against him in an attempt to satisfy the tingling and throbbing that she felt starting between her legs. Her milk was flowing freely into his mouth. Releasing her right nipple, he turned his attentions to her left, while massaging the breast he had just attended to.

"Oh, God, that’s good," Welkin said, shutting her eyes, and rocking back and forth atop him. "You are _soooo_ good."

Welkin had always laughed at the corny phrase, _'You’ve ruined me for all other men.'_ With Severus, she had discovered that it was actually true. She couldn’t imagine anyone else ever making her respond sexually the way that she did with him. Damn! How she loved her hot, kinky, big-nosed, infuriating, pompous ass of a husband!

"Sevvy, I need you inside me," she whispered, and he immediately released her nipple and raised his eyes to meet hers.

"How badly do you need me?" He moved his hand to her pussy. 

"Can’t you feel how badly?" she asked, as his fingers teased, sliding up and down the slickened length between her pussy lips.

"Then assume the position that you most desire," he told her. "If you want my cock to fill you, you must show me by your actions, as well as your words."

Welkin kissed him on the mouth, then scrambled off him. Surprising Snape, she quickly positioned herself between his spread legs, facing the foot of the bed. She bunched her nightgown up around her waist, until her round, pink and white buttocks were exposed, and ducked her head, her ass elevated. She spread her knees apart and braced herself.

"Give it to me good," she requested happily. "Fuck me 'till I’m raw. Fuck me 'till I beg you to stop!"

"You seem a little overeager." Amused at her, Snape teased her, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, his hands behind his head, as he gazed at her inviting ass and private parts, so exposed to him that they should hardly be called private anymore. He lazily placed the toes of one of his feet against her, and rubbed up and down.

"Oh, Sevvy, please." Welkin wriggled in frustration. "Stop diddling me, and fuck me!" 

Snape grasped his hardened cock, and moved behind her on his knees. "Spread yourself for me," he ordered, and Welkin quickly reached beneath herself and used her fingers to stretch her pussy lips apart, exposing her glistening entrance and her protruding, reddened clit to him. He smacked his cock against her clit several times in rapid succession.

"Goddamn you! Give me that cock!" Welkin lost patience with his teasing. "You cocksucking, motherfucking bastard… _OW!_ " Welkin yelled, as she finally got what she’d asked for. " _OW! OW!_ That hurts!" Snape ignored her protests, and continued to pound into her even harder. "You’re killing me! No, No, No, No…Oh, _YES!_ Oh, _YES!_ "

Ye gods, she was tight, Snape thought. Even after childbirth, her pussy was so tight and hot. He lost himself in the sweet rhythm and feel of fucking her.

Severus was fucking her so hard that Welkin was scooting forward on the bed now, with each powerful new thrust. She had started out in the center of the bed, and now had to grab hold of the footboard, to keep from being pushed over it onto the floor.

Snape began to rotate his hips while he was deepest inside her, and soon hit the spot he was aiming for, giving Welkin her first orgasm of several he intended to elicit from her, before allowing himself his own release.

Her knees weak, and her arms beginning to ache from bracing herself, Welkin was unprepared when a second orgasm followed so soon after the first - and still, he kept pounding into her.

Snape pulled her back into the center of the bed, and flipped her over onto her side, like a rag doll. Spreading her legs open in a wide vee, he placed her uppermost leg atop his shoulder, and began to fuck her in that position, one hand gripping her leg and the other her ass, to steady her for his continued aggressive thrusts. "Come for me again, Welkin," he demanded, his chest and his brow now glistening with sweat, his lips compressed tightly with the effort of restraining his own orgasm. He rotated his hips again, and she felt his thick cock scraping against her insides, searching. Her thighs ached from being stretched apart.

"Come for me," he chanted again, his cock at last finding the spot, sending Welkin into her final spasms of simultaneously painful and pleasurable release.

Snape flipped her again, this time onto her back, and plunged back into her wetness with a deep groan and renewed vigor, this time seeking his own release. Welkin threw her arms around him, her hands caressing him, breathing his name in his ear over and over again, until she felt him stiffen in her arms and heard him cry out as he began to come, spurting inside her and filling her with his warm, soothing fluids.

Welkin continued to kiss and caress him as he slowly recovered from his orgasm. "I love you," she told him, when he raised his eyes to hers again, falling forward and snuggling contentedly against her.

"Was it…well with you?" Severus asked, anxious, as always, to hear her say that he had pleased her.

"Very well. Very well, indeed," Welkin replied, smiling. "I love you for so much more than this, but nobody fucks like you do, my sweet Sevvy."

"I have great love for you, as well," Snape said solemnly. "I do not ever wish to lose you."

"Haven’t you forgotten somebody?" Welkin prodded. Snape looked puzzled. "Sully, Severus. I meant Sully, your son."

"Yes, of course," he replied, wondering how he could have forgotten his own son.

As if on cue, Sully began to cry. No doubt, he was fussing to be fed again, Welkin assumed.

Snape removed the Silencio Charm from around their bed, and the crying was no longer muffled, but loud and demanding. Welkin started to go to him, but stopped. "Why don’t you go get him, Severus? Go get him and bring him here for me." Severus hadn’t really had any bonding time with Sully yet, and Welkin was anxious to get that particular ball rolling right away, knowing what she did about his poor relationship with his own father.

"Perhaps I should put on my nightshirt first," Snape suggested. 

"Don’t be silly. Sully doesn’t care if you’re naked, and I’m enjoying the view." Welkin grinned. "Just go get him, before he wakes up the whole castle."

Snape obediently went to the cradle. Hesitantly, and somewhat awkwardly, he extracted Sullivan from it. Sully immediately stopped crying, much to Snape’s astonishment. Bringing him gingerly to the bed, Snape tried to hand him to Welkin, but she scooted over to his side of the bed and made room for him on her side. "Just get in bed with him. He’s not crying, so I guess he’s not hungry yet, after all. Maybe he’s just lonely," she said.

Snape got into bed under the coverlet and Welkin joined him, showing him how to support Sully’s head and neck properly, though where she had learned this herself, she couldn’t have told him. Her nightgown dispensed with, Welkin leaned against Severus as he held Sully, who was nattily dressed in his new yellow onesie, his black hair sticking out at many interesting angles.

"You see," Welkin told him. "Sully was just lonesome for his Daddy. Weren’t you, Sully?"

"The child is far too young to vocalize words," Snape told her, refusing to play along with Welkin’s fantasies concerning the baby’s attachment to him. "I do not understand why you insist on including him in our conversations."

"You’re _supposed_ to talk to babies. Even _I_ know that. It stimulates them, and it gets them used to your voice. Say something to him, Severus." Snape looked skeptical, but acquiesced at Welkin’s insistence.

"I am your father, Sullivan Snape," he announced to Sully rather stiffly, causing Welkin to press her lips together tightly to keep from laughing. "And, I am…pleased to make your acquaintance," he added even more formally.

Sullivan stared hazily up at him, then wobbled his head against Severus, opened his mouth, and began reflexively rooting around on Snape’s chest, searching for Welkin’s teat. "What is he doing?" Snape asked her, looking alarmed.

"He’s trying to nurse, Severus. Just give him your teat to suck on. That’ll probably pacify him. It usually works for me when I want to pacify you," she teased, laughing at him at last.

"This child is a dunderhead!" Snape told her, hastily handing him over to her. 

"Yep, just like his Daddy," Welkin agreed, guiding Sully into place against her breast. "But that’s okay, Sully," Welkin cooed to him as he suckled. "Because your Daddy has a great _big_ ole _cock_ ," she continued in a sing-song voice, "and he fucks Mama _real_ good with it, every chance he gets - and he makes her _come_ and _come_ and _come_ \- every single time."

Snape rolled his eyes at her. He folded his arms and leaned back against the headboard. "Our child is going to be insane, just like his mother," he deadpanned.

* * *


	16. In Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin gets her wand, which is an unexpectedly interesting one. She asks Snape about Voldemort, and admits to a secret when questioned by Dumbledore and Snape.

* * *

"I have my wand, and it’s a beauty!" Welkin was grinning like the Cheshire Cat at Snape, as she and Dumbledore joined him at his table in the Slytherin common room.

She eagerly opened the box, and unwrapped the dark green cloth it was wrapped in to display it to him. "Oak, unicorn hair core," she repeated from memory. "Ten inches, just like your…I mean, like something else we both know." She corrected herself demurely, realizing that there were students with big ears and loose lips at nearby tables. "The carvings are gorgeous on this end." She pointed out the carved acorns and mistletoe design, with a centered visage of Cernunnos, the Horned God.

"This appears to be rather ancient," Snape said, examining it curiously, with a look of great surprise. He had not really expected Welkin to return from Ollivander’s with a wand at all, much less one this interesting.

"This is oak wood from the Holy Groves of the Druids. He has apparently had this wand in stock for quite some time," Albus informed Snape. "It practically leapt into her hand," he added. "Ollivander was a bit astonished, I think. Although, with him, it’s sometimes hard to tell."

"So, it’s a good one then?" Welkin looked at one, then the other, for confirmation. "I know it cost a pretty penny, so it had better be."

"It is very much attuned to you, yes," Dumbledore assured her. 

"Hot damn!" Welkin exclaimed with pleasure, startling the students at the nearest table.

"This is not a toy, Welkin," Snape admonished her quickly. "It is an instrument of great power and should be treated with respect. There will be no foolish wand waving or gesticulating, unless you are with a trained instructor. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" She saluted him. "I won’t let you down, sir!" 

"I shall be tutoring Welkin myself in this area, Severus," Dumbledore informed him.

"Oh…I thought Severus would be. Well, I guess that’s okay," Welkin said hesitantly. "I’m sure that you’re very good, _too._ "

Welkin glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh, crap! I told Luna I’d pick up Sully half an hour ago! I’ve got to go!" She stuffed her wand into her bag.

"Luna Lovegood has our child?" Snape looked agitated. "You left him with that nonsensical dunderhead? She is probably filling his head full of Nargles, and other ridiculous fabrications of that dolt of a father of hers. She is not a fit influence for Sullivan, Welkin," he lectured.

"For your information, Luna’s been babysitting him for weeks, and he _adores_ her. If you paid a little more attention to your son, maybe you’d know these things." Welkin stood regarding him with disapproval, one hand on her hip.

"I…I will make more of an attempt to engage with Sullivan," Snape promised, wishing she would stop frowning at him so severely.

"Good." Welkin favored him with her smile again. "That’s really all I ask." She bent to kiss his cheek. "See you both at supper." She sped off towards Ravenclaw’s dormitories.

Albus was looking at Snape with amusement. This marriage was the most entertaining thing that had happened to him in a long while. "She certainly has managed to tame you, I must say," Dumbledore told him. "I can hardly believe you are the same man who strikes fear into the hearts of so many of your students."

"I was merely humouring her," Snape claimed. "I find that verbally acquiescing at times is less tiring than asserting myself with her."

"The Muggles have an interesting term for it, Severus. I believe they call it becoming 'pussy-whipped' "

"I am not familiar with that term," Snape lied, and abruptly changed the subject.

"I must apologize for Welkin. She is not aware of what a great honor you are bestowing on her, by instructing her yourself," Snape said.

"Think nothing of it," Albus assured him. "She is obviously very proud of you, and her heart judges you to be a greater wizard than myself. I daresay, she actually thinks you are the greatest wizard our world has ever produced. I can find no fault in such devotion, can you?"

* * *

"He did that deliberately!" Snape asserted, backing up with a grimace of disgust at his wet jacket, newly christened by his infant son.

"He did _not_." Welkin laughed. "I told you to put something over it while you’re changing him. He can’t help it. Little boys do that. He got me a couple of times too, before I wised up. Go change your jacket, and I’ll finish this."

"I do not see how changing soiled nappies will create a bond between me and the child." Snape continued grousing, as he removed his wet tunic, and flung it on the floor.

"Oh, no!" Welkin pointed at it and snapped her fingers. "You pick that up off the floor right now, and put it where it’s supposed to go, Severus Snape. To quote you: This is our bedchamber, not a pigsty."

Snape scowled at her, but slowly bent to pick it up and took it to the clothes bin in the water closet, muttering to himself.

"What, sweetie? I can’t hear you." Welkin made short work of securing the diaper and lay Sully in his cradle, waving her hand to activate the floating butterfly display that Hermione Granger had gifted the baby with. "That girl is so talented," Welkin marveled to herself, as Sully immediately became entranced by the brightly colored shapes circling above him.

"I said," Snape repeated loudly, as he returned from his appointed task, "...that I am most certainly _not_ pussy-whipped!"

"Of course, you aren’t. Who would ever say that?" Welkin agreed. She put her arms around his neck fondly. "You’re definitely in charge around here. _Large_ , and in charge," she added appreciatively, letting one hand drop below his waistline to trace a finger along the zipper of his trousers.

"You are teasing me now," Snape complained. "I deserve respect in my own domicile, from my own wife."

"You’re serious, aren’t you?" Welkin suddenly realized. She stepped back and folded her arms. "I thought you were kidding. Who told you that you’re pussy-whipped? What idiot told you that?"

"Dumbledore," Snape replied sullenly. 

"Fuck Albus!" Welkin exploded. "What the hell does he know about it? He probably hasn’t even _seen_ a pussy in a hundred years, much _less_ been whipped by one!"

Snape considered her statement thoughtfully. "You may have a point." 

"Of course, I do. I respect everything about you. I always have, and I always will. Don’t you know how much I admire you, Severus? If Sully grows up to be one fraction of the man his father is, he’ll be very lucky."

Welkin was looking at him with genuine adoration and love-light in her eyes. In his entire life, no one had ever looked at him like Welkin did. 

"I shall try never to disappoint you," Severus said, pulling her into his arms. 

"You never could," Welkin assured him.

* * *

"Can I ask you something about the Dark Lord?" Welkin was a little reluctant to bring up the subject with Severus again, since he almost always avoided most of her questions about that part of his life.

Snape shifted Welkin from his chest onto her back, staring down at her warily in their bed.

"You are very persistent with these questions of late. Is there a particular reason?"

"I just want to know, did he look like a man, or…something else?" 

"Something else?" Severus repeated slowly. 

"Yes. Something without human features. Something more…reptilian?" 

"Why would you ask this? Who told you this?" Snape grasped her arms painfully, his eyes boring into hers with alarm.

"No one did. I saw it in my dreams. Severus! You’re hurting me!" 

He released her and she rubbed her arms where his fingers had left their prints.

"Is it him? Is that what he looked like?" Welkin pressed him. 

"How many times have you dreamed this?" Snape demanded. 

"I don’t know. Three or four times, since before Sully was born. What does it mean?"

Severus got out of bed quickly. "Get dressed," he ordered her. "We have to see Dumbledore immediately."

* * *

"Won’t somebody just tell me what this is all about?" Welkin pleaded, tired of all the questioning about her nightmares. Sully was getting cranky, and so was she.

"Once again, Welkin," Albus repeated. "Have you ever had dreams that came true? It is very important that you tell the truth about this."

She hesitated. It was a subject that she had avoided since she was quite young, when her mother had warned her that the gift her grandmother had spoken of was less a gift, than a sin and a curse. With her strict religious upbringing, in her mother's eyes, to be different equated to being sinful. Even without the dreams, Welkin was a worry to her. She was always much too different - too much like the _others_ \- to suit her straight-laced mother. And so, Welkin had learned not to talk about it. And finally, to deny to herself that it even existed.

Welkin was the opposite end of the spectrum from Luna Lovegood; perhaps one of the reasons why she favored the girl. Luna convinced herself that things existed, which _did not_ exist. Welkin stubbornly convinced herself that things which _did_ exist, did not.

"Please, Welkin," Severus pleaded. "Tell us what we need to know." 

She looked at him a long while, holding Sully and rocking him gently back and forth, as much to soothe herself as to quiet the baby.

"When I was young, I used to have dreams. Sometimes they came true. My grandmother said all of the females in our family were born with a _'double veil'_ , and that meant that we could _‘see into things’_ , is the way she put it. Mama told me she was just a crazy, superstitious old woman, and not to pay her any attention."

"Double veil?" Snape asked Dumbledore. He was not familiar with the term.

"Another term for the caul, which infrequently still covers the baby’s head and face after birth. To be born with a caul, which must be removed at birth, is a signatory of the gift of second-sight," Albus explained. "To be born with a double caul, is rarer still."

Albus turned back to Welkin. "Tell us again of the dreams you have had, and leave out no detail. I do not wish to alarm you, Welkin, but if the Dark Lord is invading your dreams, it is a threat to your safety, as well as to Severus, and your child."

* * *


	17. The Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus is summoned by Voldemort to a meeting, where he goads him about Welkin. Welkin agrees to a command appearance.

* * *

"I do not think there is reason for alarm just yet, Severus," Dumbledore assured him. They had sent Welkin off to bed with the baby, after getting her to recount every detail of her dreams concerning Voldemort. 

"There is no indication of immediate harm to either of you in the details that Welkin revealed to us. For the moment, I would suggest that we merely let the sleeping dragon lie. Has he summoned you since the child’s birth?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Snape replied, staring at the wall for a moment before he met Dumbledore’s gaze. "This is my fault," he said. "I should never have become involved with Welkin. It is my fault that she was drawn into this. I was a fool to think that I could have…" Snape didn’t complete his thought, and a pained expression was on his face. 

"You were a fool to think that you could have what? Love? Happiness? A normal life?" Albus asked him, turning away to seat himself again behind his desk. "No. You are not foolish to want any of those things. They are as much your due, as they are anyone else’s." 

"I have put Welkin and our child in jeopardy by my selfishness," Severus protested. "If anything happens to her because of my lack of control over my emotions, I do not want to…" Snape trailed off again. 

This was the first time that Dumbledore had ever heard Snape refer to himself as selfish, or even admit to a character flaw of any sort. It took him by surprise. Welkin’s influence on Snape appeared to have wrought changes in the man that Dumbledore had never anticipated, but had long hoped to see. 

"Then, let us both do our best to make sure that nothing _does_ happen to her, Severus," Albus said. "For I, myself, do not wish to be mourning the loss of either of you."

* * *

"But, I thought the Dark Lord was dead. Everyone talks about him as if he is, even if they still won’t say his name," Welkin said. "That’s why I didn’t mention anything at first, when I started having the dreams, and then realized who it might be. I didn’t think there was a reason to worry about it if he was dead."

"He has returned," Snape told her simply. "Most people either do not know it, or do not believe it," he added. "It is best that you do not discuss it with anyone but me or Dumbledore, for reasons I cannot explain to you," he insisted.

"Returned? Back from the dead? How is that even possible?" Welkin asked. 

"The less you know, the safer you will be," Snape told her. "Do not ask me any further questions." 

Welkin noticed that Severus was rubbing his arm intermittently as he spoke with her.

"What’s wrong with your arm? You keep rubbing it." 

"Nothing," Snape replied, removing his hand from it abruptly. 

"Yes there is. Let me see," Welkin insisted. Against his protests, she grasped the sleeve of his nightshirt, and pushed it up until his forearm was exposed. The Dark Mark had changed from its usual appearance - an angry, red scar - to a black image, pulsating against his pale skin as if it were alive. 

Snape hastily covered it again. "It is _nothing_ , I tell you!"

"He’s summoning you, isn’t he?" 

Snape was silent, his face turned away, not wanting to answer.

"Isn’t he?" Welkin asked again, more firmly.

"Yes," Snape admitted quietly.

"Is that where you’ve gone on those evenings that you’ve told me you suddenly had errands to do?" 

"Yes." He answered her a little wearily. 

"Are you still a Death Eater, Severus?" She asked him the question that was uppermost on her mind. 

"No! I am not! But I must…I cannot explain further!" His agitation was increasing as she questioned him. 

"It’s okay. Please, don’t get upset. I believe you." Welkin reassured him. She rubbed his back soothingly, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He turned to her with a look of desperation on his face, and she tried to reassure him again. "Don’t worry. I know that you wouldn’t do anything wrong. You’re not like that." 

What good thing had he ever done to deserve Welkin’s devotion? Snape wondered. She trusted him beyond reason, and beyond caring about the whispers and innuendo she must surely have heard about him, over the months that they had been married during this past year. 

"I love you," he told her, not knowing how else to respond. "I want so much to be the man you need me to be." With that honest expression to her, Severus Snape, the man who so often sneered at sentiment and cautioned others to control their emotions, firmly pinned his heart back into place on his own sleeve.

"You already _are_ the man I need you to be," Welkin said. She leaned closer, and kissed him on the lips tenderly. "Answer your summons," she told him, when their lips parted. "It’s probably not wise, is it - to keep the Dark Lord waiting? But, please be careful, my only love. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I have no desire to raise our son alone."

* * *

"I hear that congratulations are in order, Severus." Voldemort greeted him. "Lucius, here, tells me that a son has been added to the Snape household. Unfortunate that his mother is a mere Muggle, of course, but most probably he will inherit his father’s abilities, and make a fine Death Eater someday." He studied Snape’s impassive face for any change of expression after his insult to Welkin. It was a game he had been playing with Snape ever since his marriage to Welkin, trying to gauge the depth of his commitment to her. 

"What of the mother? Does she still please you sexually, or has childbirth affected her too much? If that is the case, I might suggest that you take her anally instead. That has always been my greatest personal pleasure." Voldemort continued to test him. "Depending upon her proclivities in the past, of course, that orifice may still be untouched." 

Lucius Malfoy, seated near the fireplace, and shrewdly choosing to stay out of the conversation, quirked an amused smile at Snape, intent on seeing his reaction to the Dark Lord’s goading. 

Snape hesitated, and quelled any trace of anger that Voldemort’s words had aroused in him. He would betray no hint of his love for Welkin to this monster, nor his promise to himself that his son would _never_ be a Death Eater.

"Well? What say you to my question, Severus? Surely you haven’t developed feelings for the Muggle wench, have you? They are all little more than animals, after all. Don't you agree?" Voldemort challenged. 

"No. I have not." Snape told him what he wanted to hear. "She still pleases me sexually. That is my only interest in her. I only pretend otherwise to make her more pliant to my desires." 

"Good…good," Voldermort said with approval. "Lucius has been telling me about her, and seemed to think otherwise. He said you positively doted on the creature. I must say that he seems quite interested in her himself. So much so, that I find myself growing somewhat curious about her. You must arrange to bring her, and your son, to meet me. Lucius will host an intimate dinner party, and I’m sure it will be a most pleasant and revealing evening. You have no objections, of course?" 

"Are you…sure that is wise, milord?" Snape asked, trying to discourage the idea. He did not want Welkin or his son anywhere near Voldemort. "Surely the less people whom you expose your existence to, at this crucial time in your plans, the better." 

"Are you intimating that she might be a threat to me, Severus?" Voldemort asked in his cagey way. 

"No. Not at all, milord. Just that there could be a chance that she might unintentionally let something slip that she becomes privy to. I have been very careful not to allow her access to your plans." Severus responded quickly. 

"I’m sure that you can keep her in line, Severus." Voldemort dismissed Snape’s expressed concerns. "I have every confidence in you. You have never failed me in the past." 

Snape began to state another objection, but was cut off by Voldemort before he could finish. "I really must _insist_ on this Severus. Is this clear?" The ugly travesty of a smile was back on Voldemort’s inhuman face. 

"Yes, milord," Snape replied. Neither his face, nor his mind, betrayed any hint of the panic that he felt at the prospect of Welkin and his child being examined by Voldemort. 

"Good. Now, Lucius, I have not forgotten your personal suggestions, however, I must ask you to leave us alone. I have other, more important things, which I need to discuss with Severus now." 

Malfoy smirked once more at Snape, before leaving them alone in the room. If he played his cards right, Lucius thought, the Dark Lord himself might soon hand over Welkin to him, to do with as he wished. 

As the door closed on Malfoy’s retreating form, Snape dutifully began to give his report on Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Dumbledore, and other matters of interest to Voldemort.

* * *

"I’ll do it, but I’m not taking Sully." Welkin agreed at once with no hesitation. 

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked. "It will be both difficult, and extremely dangerous. If you are unable to shield yourself from him, the consequences could be fatal. He is extremely shrewd and discerning, and will penetrate your mind without compunction, should he become suspicious of you." 

"It will be extremely dangerous for Severus if I _don’t_ go, won’t it be?" Welkin countered. "I’m not afraid of the Dark Lord anymore," she lied. "But, I absolutely refuse to take Sully. He stays here!" 

"Of course," Dumbledore assured her. "Severus and I had already agreed on that. Sullivan will be conveniently ill, and unable to travel, when the day arrives." 

"I am against this course of action. I do not wish you to go," Snape told her unnecessarily. 

"I know that you are. I would feel the same way if the situation was reversed, but it isn’t, and I’m going. It’s my decision, and I’ve made it. There’s no use trying to change my mind." Welkin’s jaw was clenched, and her lower lip pouted slightly, exhibiting an expression of stubborn resolve that Severus had learned to recognize in the course of their innumerable verbal skirmishes since their marriage began. Once her mind was set thusly, Snape knew that only the most logical and compelling argument could ever make her relent. Unfortunately, at the moment, he had no such argument at his disposal.

"So be it," Dumbledore said. "Severus will begin your training in Occlumency immediately. You must learn to shield your mind as best you can before this…" 

"Hellish dinner date?" Welkin finished for him. "I’ve been on a few of those before, and my date never knew what I was really thinking," she quipped. 

"You must take this seriously, Welkin," Snape cautioned her. "Or we will both be undone." 

"No…No. I think that I must do exactly the opposite," she told them both, the beginning of an idea forming, as she considered her game plan. "I think that only _not_ taking it so seriously, and an overly liberal dose of charm, is going to get me through this in one piece. I can be quite the charmer, you know, when I want to be, and if the situation calls for it," Welkin added. 

"Of that, there is no doubt," Albus agreed. Welkin’s charm had even managed to seduce dour Argus Filch. She had brought tasty tidbits to his beloved Mrs. Norris from her supper in the Great Hall, and engaged Filch in conversation about the cat for a full twenty minutes one evening in the hallways. Albus doubted that Argus had ever had a conversation that long with anyone, since he had first started his duties at Hogwarts. Consequently, Welkin had the run of the castle now, without interference from Filch, and sometimes, even with his assistance. Albus pretended not to notice Filch’s catering to Welkin, not wanting to embarrass him. Life was difficult enough for a Squib.

"What shall I wear?" Welkin pondered. "Something dark, and a bit décolleté, I think." 

"Not _too_ décolleté," Snape frowned, mindful that Lucius was hosting the dinner, and might still have designs on Welkin. 

"Just décolleté enough," Welkin reassured him. "I want to be just distracting enough to keep the Dark Lord out of my mind, but not so much that I make him suspicious. I’m not looking to incite a gangbang. I’ve played this game before. I know exactly what to do." 

"Surely, you are not suggesting that you are going to _flirt_ your way through this?" Snape looked both incredulous and worried at the alarming thought. 

Welkin smiled her _‘let the games begin’_ smile at him. 

"Albus, please dissuade her from this insanity!" Snape implored him, using the headmaster’s given name for the first time in their long acquaintanceship. 

"I’m afraid that I cannot, Severus. She has already worked her considerable charms on me long ago, and I am, as the Muggles say, but _‘putty in her hands’_. Brandy, anyone?" he asked, pouring himself a stiff draught.

* * *


	18. Dinner with the Malfoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin's training progresses. Welkin meets Voldemort and attempts to create just the right impression with him. Severus is forced by circumstances to do something he is loath to do.

* * *

Severus stood motionless, one hand on the curtain, looking down from a window high in the North Tower. He was watching intently as Welkin practiced with her wand, under Dumbledore’s able tutelage. 

Albus had moved the lessons outdoors, after too much damage had happened to the classrooms they initially borrowed for their tutoring sessions.

Minor damage was always expected with untrained students, but was usually minimal, since a pre-teen could rarely manage to project enough power through the wand to wreak much havoc. The amount of power that Welkin was already projecting through her wand was unexpected, however. Combined with her inability to modulate that power, it made practicing outside in the open field seem like a much less dangerous option to Dumbledore. At the present, they were practicing Incendio on bales of hay. 

Welkin did very little of the excessive wand waving that Snape found so annoying in first year pupils. She maintained a firm grip on her wand, extended her right arm with a forceful snap, and pronounced the spell with clarity and confidence. She needed practice with her aim, which was sometimes off, but all in all, Snape thought that she was doing quite well. Her performance in defensive tactics with the wand was also coming along much better than he had expected. She parried Dumbledore’s basic dueling attacks, and when knocked down, rose to her feet almost immediately without complaint, determined to try again.

A small number of students were watching the lesson, and Draco Malfoy was among them, Snape noted. He was a little concerned by that. But, he knew that Draco rarely traded Owls with his father, Lucius, usually only with his mother, Narcissa, and at the moment, Draco seemed more concerned with the Slytherin girl whose arms were brazenly draped around his neck, than with Welkin and her lesson. Draco was getting to be a little bit too much like his father in some ways, Snape thought with disapproval. 

Reluctantly, Snape let the curtain fall back into place, and turned from the window, leaving Welkin to her lesson. He focused his attention on the errand that had brought him to the tower in the first place.

* * *

"I’m still getting a little too much kickback from my wand. Do you think if I aim a little lower, it will correct for the up-tick, and I’ll hit what I’m aiming for more often?" Welkin asked Dumbledore. Hot and thirsty from the workout, she accepted his leather water pouch from him. She tilted back her head, and poured a long stream of cool water into her mouth. They were sitting on the rocks at the edge of Black Lake together, resting and waiting for the sun to set, before returning to the castle. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, as Dumbledore considered her question. 

"The problem is not your aim," Albus told her. "It is learning to control the amount of power that you project through the wand. Your aim will improve when you do that," he told her. "For that matter, I think perhaps that you are depending too much on aiming. It is not necessary to aim to hit your target. It is merely necessary to sense your opponent, observe their preferred strategy, and anticipate their next move rapidly. You must use your intuition as much as your intellect, Welkin. I wouldn’t have thought it would be necessary to tell you that. You seem to operate very well on intuition, especially where it comes to Severus." 

Dumbledore removed his slippers and socks, and let his feet dangle in the dark waters. "Aaahhh," he said, splashing them about a bit. "Most refreshing!" 

It was a little chilly for that, but, what the hell. Welkin took off her shoes and socks and joined him. 

"I don’t think Severus believes in intuition," she told Albus. "He’s very everything-by-the-book sometimes." 

"Does that diminish the feelings that you have for him? That he is not more spontaneous and rebellious?" 

"No, of course it doesn’t. It’s just not his nature. He likes to have things well-organized, planned, and structured. I just wish he could enjoy himself more, and not always be so concerned about following the rules and keeping things under control. I don’t think he’s had a lot of fun, up to now. But I’m definitely going to change that," Welkin promised. 

"I have no doubt that there is a lot that you can teach him about breaking rules and losing control. _Poor Severus_." Albus sighed sympathetically. 

"Hey! What’s _that_ supposed to mean?" Welkin huffed at him. "I thought you _liked_ me," she added, her grin giving away that she was only pretending to be offended. 

"Anyway, _you_ set up this love match, old man, remember? _‘Poor Severus’_ wouldn’t even be in this fix, under my _terrible_ influence, if you hadn’t brought me here in the first place. Which reminds me - I’ve been doing a little reading and I think you used a Portkey to bring me here. Am I right?" 

"Perhaps." Albus smiled. 

"So, what was the Portkey? I’m curious."

"What was the last thing you remember touching?" he asked her. 

Welkin arched her eyebrow, and smiled mock suggestively at him, but decided not to make the obvious vulgar quip in response. 

"I had stopped to look at the foliage, and I remember it was so beautiful and colorful that I wanted to take a picture, and…my digital camera! That was it, wasn’t it?"

"Perhaps," Albus confirmed obliquely. 

"But, when did you..." 

"Welkin, really! Must you strip an _‘old man’_ of all his secrets? Leave a little something to the imagination. Is this how you treat poor Severus? Constantly bombarding him with questions?" 

" _Poor Severus_ is doing just fine for himself - don’t you worry about that!" Welkin assured him. "He doesn’t care how many questions I ask him, as long as he gets his pillows plumped every night," Welkin stated bluntly, but far less crudely than she usually would have put it. 

"Every night?" Albus raised both eyebrows. "I don’t think that I shall ever call him _Poor Severus_ again," he avowed, clearly impressed. 

"By the way - how dare you tell him that he’s pussy-whipped! Do you know how much I had to let him boss me around, until he got over that?" Welkin complained. 

Albus was staring off into the distance, as the sun began to set, streaking the November sky in vivid golden, orange, and purplish hues. 

"Earth to Albus." Welkin wiggled her fingers in front of his face, breaking his concentration. 

"Oh, sorry, my dear. I was just thinking fondly about the last time I had _my_ pillows plumped." 

Welkin let out a raucous burst of laughter, grabbing Dumbledore’s arm, and leaning against him as she continued to laugh convulsively. "You nutty, old wizard," she finally gasped. "You’re as crazy as I am!"

* * *

"Where are your shoes?" Severus frowned as she came in carrying Sully, singing a nonsensical song to him, which was apparently about a large, rocky mountain made of candy. 

"Oh…" She looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes. "I must have left them at the lake. Or maybe Albus picked them up. I’ll ask him tomorrow. I kicked ass with my wand today. Did you see me?" 

"I saw you. You were quite good," Snape agreed, forgetting about her bare feet and the ridiculous song. 

"Thank you. Sully and I have missed you today, Daddy. Come here and give Mama a welcome home kiss." She puckered up in anticipation, closing her eyes. 

"You look like a fish," Snape said gruffly, but kissed her anyway. 

"I smell like one too. Albus and I were playing in the water after practice." 

Welkin crossed the room to deposit Sully in his cradle, then returned to Snape and gave him a proper kiss, plastering her body against him. He could smell the lake water mingled with her sweat. "Have you had supper?" She breathed the question in his ear.

"Yes," he confirmed, as his hands moved over her. 

"Would you like to have _me_ for dessert?" she invited. 

He didn’t bother to reply. He simply swept her up, and carried her to their bed.

* * *

"The invitation came today," Snape told her later, as he lay spooned against her back, his arms around her.

"When is it?" Welkin asked apprehensively.

"This Friday evening, at eight." 

Tonight was Wednesday. She turned in his arms to face him. "What if two more days is really all we have?" she asked him solemnly. 

"I thought that _I_ was supposed to be the pessimist in this relationship," he teased gently, stroking her hair as she gazed at him forlornly. "I will not let anything happen to you," he promised. 

"Make love to me again, Severus, please," she requested, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

* * *

Welkin slipped a small piece of parchment into Dumbledore’s hand as Snape was handing over Sullivan to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse, to be looked after until their return. "Open it after we’re gone. I don’t want Severus to worry." Albus took it, and secreted it in the pocket of his robe.

Severus had explained to her that, should Voldemort disbelieve them about the reason for the child’s absence, it would be helpful if Welkin thought of an image of Sullivan in the infirmary, lending some credence to their claims of his illness, if Voldemort probed her mind. 

With Sully safely ensconced in the infirmary, Welkin, carrying a bottle of wine to present to their hosts, walked between the two men as they made their way through the circuitous hallways of Hogwarts, and downstairs to the first floor. 

The dress Welkin had chosen for tonight was black silk, with a subtle shimmer to it. The sleeveless dress had a horizontal neckline that bared her pale shoulders, and was notched in a vee at the center to expose just a hint of cleavage. It was also vee’d in back, to the middle of her torso. Cut to skim her curves closely, it narrowed gradually from the hipline, the fabric ending just below the knee. The dark heels she was wearing accentuated the curve of her legs, which were, arguably, Welkin’s best feature. Her jewelry consisted of simple silver drop earrings which culminated in a glittering three-dimensional starburst pattern, her engagement and wedding rings, and after some consideration, the snake bracelet which Severus had first presented to her to claim her as his own. If she were going to die tonight, she wanted to die wearing his bracelet, she thought morbidly. 

Reluctant to place her wand into a handbag where it might be discovered, she had secured it well above her hemline strapped to her inner thigh, reasoning that was the safest place for it. She did not think they would be frisked. 

Welkin cleared her throat nervously as they exited at one of the side entrances, and finally stood outside under a canopied walkway. 

"Are we taking a carriage, I hope?" she asked Severus.

"We cannot. It would take too long. We will have to fly," Snape told her. 

"Oh, fucking great!" Welkin replied, exasperated. "You know I’m afraid of heights – and I haven’t even had broom training yet." 

"You will not need one. You will fly with me," Snape told her. He stepped out from under the canopy, and opened his cloak. "Come here, and put your arms about me. Hold on tightly." Any other time, that would be an instruction that Welkin would be more than happy to comply with. 

"See you later," Welkin told Dumbledore, somewhat wistfully. 

"I have no doubt of it," he replied encouragingly, as Welkin handed Severus the bottle of wine, and stepped into his arms. Snape folded his long, dark cloak over her, and Welkin pressed her head against his chest, her arms around him. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt her feet lift off the ground, and cold wind rushing around her as they swirled away, their destination Malfoy Manor.

Albus watched them in the night sky until they were out of sight, then he withdrew Welkin’s note from his robe, reading it carefully. 

"Hopefully, that will not be necessary," he said to himself, returning the note to his pocket.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy graciously accepted the bottle of wine Welkin offered, as she and Severus were ushered into the massive downstairs parlor-sitting room area of Malfoy Manor. Welkin was immediately struck by what a beautiful woman Narcissa was, in her own cool, blonde, patrician way. It made her dislike Lucius even more for his chosen pattern of marital indiscretions, when he obviously had such a lovely woman at home. 

"It’s so nice to finally meet Severus’s wife," Narcissa said. "I’m afraid I was unable to attend your wedding, as I was attending to family matters when your nuptials occurred." Narcissa had actually been attempting to visit her sister Bella at Azkaban, but she had been turned away, yet again. "Lucius tells me that it was a lovely ceremony." 

Speak of the devil and… Lucius appeared at Narcissa’s side to greet them, and give Welkin a surreptitious once-over, as his wife turned to speak with Severus. 

"Lucius, would you open this wine and let it breathe for a bit? We’ll enjoy it before dinner is served," Narcissa instructed, as she turned back to him.

"Of course, Cissy, my darling," Lucius told her, giving Welkin another lingering look before turning away to head towards a small, but well-stocked bar.

It was just at that moment that Welkin noticed the tall figure seated near the fireplace, back turned to them. Lord Voldemort slowly rose from the chair, and turned to face them, walking towards her. 

"Ah, my dear," the repugnant creature addressed her, stopping halfway and extending a claw-like hand, beckoning her to join him. 

Welkin forced herself to walk towards him, and Snape quickly followed her. Voldemort grasped her hand, and brought it to his ghastly lips. "So delighted that you could join us," he said, his charming words at odds with the cool, appraising gaze he had fixed on her. 

Welkin pretended that she was an actress in a play, and this hideous creature was actually an enchanted prince. She smiled at him warmly. "I’m so pleased to meet you, milord," she said, addressing him in the respectful manner in which Severus had taught her. "I’m honored that you chose to invite me." 

"Severus has been remiss in not bringing you to meet me sooner. And the child…" Voldemort looked at Snape. "Did you not bring the child, as I instructed?" 

"The child is ill, and in hospital at the moment, I regret to say," Snape told him. 

"Really? Is the child that sickly? Perhaps the result of _inferior_ Muggle genes, " Voldemort said, and fixed his gaze on Welkin again. 

"He is not usually so delicate, but the child is somewhat dehydrated from a recent illness, and Dumbledore insisted that we leave him in the infirmary as a precaution, for a day or two," Snape answered for Welkin quickly, before her temper could get the best of her. He need not have worried. Welkin fixed an image of Sullivan with the nurse in her mind, and ignored the insult. 

" _Must_ we talk about the baby tonight? I so rarely get an evening out," Welkin complained, pouting petulantly. "I’m beginning to think that my husband doesn’t want to be seen with me. That he’s actually embarrassed by me - can you imagine that?" 

"Oh, I’m sure that’s not true," Narcissa told her. 

"Well, even if it is, he more than makes up for it at night, when we’re alone. Don’t you, pumpkin?" She winked at Snape. "If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s pleasing my man!" 

"Sit down and be silent, Welkin. You are making a spectacle of yourself again, and I will not countenance that," Snape warned her, playing along with her act.

Voldemort chuckled as Welkin flounced over to a chair, and flopped herself into it, glaring at Snape like a spoiled child. 

Lucius was pouring the wine, watching the little melodrama with interest. What was going on here? This was not the Welkin that he knew. As everyone seated themselves, he played the gracious host, and passed around the drinks, bending a little lower when he came to Welkin, rudely staring down into her cleavage. 

Welkin took her glass and raised one hand to her chest to block his view, still smiling sweetly. 

"Did you choose the wine, Welkin?" Lucius asked, walking away to lean casually against the mantel of the fireplace. "It’s quite a good vintage. I was under the impression you Americans preferred wine from those quaint boxes - _quantity_ instead of quality." 

"Oh, I don’t know anything much about choosing wines. Severus picked it. He said I’d just muck it up. I’d rather have beer any day of the week, but Severus is trying to teach me about the finer things in life, you know. He said I should act more like a lady, now that I'm married to a professor. He wants me to try to improve my mind, but reading all those dusty old books just makes my head hurt!" 

"Beer? That _is_ quaint. I thought your drink was firewhisky?" Lucius prodded. "You seemed to have quite a lot of it at the last Quidditch match I attended at Hogwarts. I believe that Severus actually had to carry you off the field, didn’t he?" 

"Whoooo Wheeee! That firewhisky sure does get my blood pumping! If you know what I mean?" She winked broadly at Voldemort. 

"Welkin! I believe I told you to be silent. I do not intend to repeat myself," Snape warned her. "I must apologize for her disruptions, milord. This is the real reason I may have seemed reluctant to introduce you. She does not know how to behave in polite and genteel company."

"Nonsense, Severus." Voldemort continued to chuckle. "No need to apologize. She is _exactly_ what I would expect of a Muggle, and I can see that she has her compensating charms," he added, his eyes running over Welkin’s lush form, as she continued to smile at him. "The less intellect, the better, when it comes in such an attractive package." 

"See…now _there’s_ how a gentleman treats a lady!" Welkin flung the reproach at Snape. "Milord likes me just the way I am!" 

Voldemort probed Welkin's mind lightly, and found her to be apparently concerned only with the effect her party frock was having on the males in the room.

Narcissa had been watching all of this with her mouth agape. How could Severus ever have married such an uncouth, empty-headed, vain creature? She expected her own faithless husband to be attracted to a tart like this, but never suspected that Severus would be. Men! You could always count on them to think with their genitals. Narcissa would just have to think of a way to rush through dinner, and usher them out the door as quickly as she could. 

"Could you tell me where the little girls’ room is?" Welkin asked. She downed her glass of wine in several quick gulps, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, set her glass down, and stood up. "The flight here was a little rough, and I need to tinkle." 

"Up the stairs, and second door to the right," Narcissa said somewhat haughtily. Hopefully, the silly creature knew her left from her right. Welkin sashayed her way out of the room and up the stairs. 

"I really must see that the house-elves have everything in hand," Narcissa said, using that as an excuse to escape the room before Welkin returned, and started in again.

"Milord, I wish to…" Snape began another apology. 

"I can see why you would want to fuck her, but _breed_ with her, Severus?" Voldemort interrupted him. “I always thought you had better judgment than that. My advice is to smother the child, and then have your Muggle bitch sterilized."

"The child keeps her occupied." Snape shrugged. "It is that much less time I have to be afflicted with her, until I am ready to bed her." 

Lucius set his wine glass on the mantel, and excused himself. "I believe I will see what is keeping Cissy," he announced, leaving the room. As Narcissa had just left the room herself, his reason for leaving made no sense. Snape watched him warily, suspecting that his own wife was not the one that he had excused himself to go seek.

* * *

This was going much better than she had expected, Welkin thought, as she washed her hands in the bathroom basin. Voldemort, she was sure, thought she lacked the brainpower to be any sort of threat to him, and that Severus had only married her so he’d have easy access to her pussy. She somewhat regretted that Narcissa was probably also convinced of the latter proposition as well, but that couldn’t be helped. It was her and Severus’s skins on the line tonight, not Narcissa’s. Lucius had inadvertently played into her game, by insulting her at every turn. She smiled at herself in the mirror. _"Act 2, Scene 1,"_ she said to herself, _"Welkin enters, playing the fool…"_

Welkin strutted out of the bathroom, and ran headlong into Lucius Malfoy, leaning against the wall by the door, grinning at her like an aristocratic possum. 

"Taken to lurking outside bathrooms now? That’s about your style," Welkin said, as he blocked her path. 

"What little game is it that you’re playing with the Dark Lord?" Lucius sneered. 

"I don’t have any idea what you mean," Welkin said. 

"Really? I mean that simply _enchanting_ performance you gave downstairs. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but we both know that woman isn’t the real Welkin. Playing the empty-headed Muggle sexpot doesn’t fool me. I did _so_ enjoy the _sexpot_ part, though," he said in a coarsely appreciative tone, using his arms to frame her on each side, and make her press herself back against the wall. 

It was déjà vu - the library all over again. She didn’t understand him at all. He’d possibly saved her life by disarming Huldra Helliwell when she had tried to stab Welkin, but now he was back to his old disgusting behavior, as if that had never happened. Welkin turned her head away, as he leaned in closer. "I think you’d better let me go back downstairs, unless you want me to make another scene, and bring your wife up here to see what you’re doing." 

"You don’t think that she already knows? Don’t be naive. That also doesn’t suit you. I happen to be privy to a bit of information about you that the Dark Lord would find very interesting, I think," Lucius told her. 

"I doubt it. But satisfy my curiosity. What exactly is it you think you know?" 

"I happened to intercept a certain Owl from my son Draco yesterday, meant for my wife, in which he relayed a very _curious_ piece of information. It seems he observed you practicing with your wand with Albus Dumbledore." 

Welkin inadvertently gave a quick intake of breath. Damn it! This could ruin everything. 

"Your _wand_ , Welkin. Now, what would a non-magical Muggle be doing with a wand? You were doing quite well with it too, according to Draco," Lucius accused. "Do you know what this would mean for Severus, if I revealed it to the Dark Lord? He would know that Severus has lied to him about you. Do you know what happens to Death Eaters who lie to him? It isn’t a pretty thing, my dear. Not pretty at all." Lucius smiled at her maliciously.

"You wouldn’t?" Welkin pleaded. "Please, don’t betray Severus. You used to be his friend, didn’t you? Trying to get back at me for insulting you isn't worth betraying a friend." 

"I might let myself be persuaded not to tell." Lucius smiled again, as he stroked the side of her cheek suggestively. "If you’d agree to…" 

"Malfoy! Get away from her!" Snape pulled him away from Welkin. He had finally managed to excuse himself to come upstairs, after Cissy returned to the parlor to entertain Voldemort. 

"Severus! He knows about me and my wand! He intercepted a message from Draco yesterday, and he’s going to tell Voldemort!" Welkin couldn’t keep the panic from her voice.

"Really?" Snape held Welkin against his side protectively, and regarded Lucius with contempt. "Perhaps you should rethink that particular impulse," he told him. "After all, how would you explain to the Dark Lord that you knew about this for over a day, and did not bother to inform him of it?" 

Lucius turned pale at the thought, and began to backtrack on his threat. "I had no intention of revealing Welkin’s secret. Severus, you know that I would do nothing to endanger you!"

"Go back downstairs," Snape told him with disgust. "Cissy is probably looking for you."

To his surprise, Lucius slunk away down the stairs as ordered. 

"Severus, what if he _does_ tell?" 

"He will not. He would not risk his own position, or his family, regardless of what he thinks of me or you." 

"We have to get out of here, before something else goes wrong," Welkin said. "I guess it’s time to skip to the last act of this play. When we go back downstairs, here’s what I want you to do…" Welkin explained her impromptu change of plan to him. 

"I could not! I will not!" Snape objected vehemently.

"It won’t fool Voldemort otherwise. You have to. Please, Severus. I just want to get out of here as fast as we can!" Welkin begged.

* * *

"How long does it take to… _tinkle?_ " Narcissa said the vulgar word with disdain. "Lucius, did you see that creature upstairs? What can be keeping her?"

Lucius opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted as loud voices could be heard coming down the stairs. 

"But, I didn’t!" Welkin shouted.

"Do not lie to me!" Snape was heard. "I saw you with him, you brazen hussy!" 

Voldemort rose from his chair, and wandered to the doorway with Lucius and Narcissa, in time to see Snape drag Welkin down the stairs, then fling her on the floor in the foyer. 

Welkin scrambled to her feet, and backed away from him. "I _swear_ to you I wasn’t trying to seduce Lucius Malfoy!" Tears were streaming down her face.

"Liar! Must I keep _correcting_ you until you learn to control your base desires for other men?" Snape’s voice was now low and ominous. "Your body belongs to me. _Only_ me." 

Welkin backed up again, looking terrified. "Oh, Severus, please! I won’t ever…" 

Snape drew back his hand, and struck her hard across the jaw, and she fell to the floor again. She lay there sobbing. 

"Severus, don’t!" Narcissa shouted. Regardless of what she thought of Welkin, she hated to see her treated like that, especially since she was fairly certain that Lucius hadn’t been such an innocent victim as Snape seemed to think. She had observed the way Lucius was looking at Welkin since she arrived at the manor, and it wouldn't be the first time that he had humiliated her in their own home by dallying with one or more of his stable of harlots right under her nose. 

"Please, do not interfere," Snape told her evenly. He crossed to Voldemort. "Under the circumstances, I would like to respectfully request that we be allowed to leave, milord," Snape asked. 

Voldemort had a look of sadistic pleasure on his face. "Of course. I completely understand." He glanced towards Welkin, whimpering on the floor. "I shall expect a full report in the near future concerning the methods of _correction_ which you employ on the bitch," he said, a little too eagerly. Snape suspected that he was picturing some particularly grisly ones he might employ himself. Bowing to him from the waist, Snape quickly went to collect Welkin from the floor, pulling her out the front door as she pretended to struggle against him.

Snape pulled her down the driveway past one of the Malfoy carriages, far enough away that their voices would not be heard. "I am sorry. I did not mean to strike you so hard." Severus regarded her with a stricken look, clearly pained to see the dark bruise spreading across her face. 

"Never mind that! Let’s just get the hell out of here!" Welkin urged.

Snape jerked her against him roughly, in case someone was still watching, enfolded her in his cloak, and rapidly took flight.

* * *


	19. North Tower: Back to the Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus gives Welkin an anniversary surprise, and they discuss their respective sexual histories. Ginny guesses Hermione's secret.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat outside, calmly peeling an apple with his knife. Occasionally, he glanced up at the night sky. He had just begun feeding himself slices of fruit, when he spotted a dark swirl approaching over the tree tops. He folded and pocketed his knife and stood up, just as Snape returned with Welkin. They touched ground not fifty yards away from him, and started walking towards him. 

As they approached, and Albus saw Welkin’s face, his initial relief turned to concern. 

"What happened?" he asked. "How was Welkin injured, Severus?" 

"It was…we were…" Snape stuttered, looking distressed at the question.

"It was a change in strategy, and it worked - that’s all that matters." Welkin took over the explanation for him. She knew how badly Severus felt about having to strike her, and she didn’t want him to feel even worse by having to recount what had happened. Hopefully, Albus would be willing to wait for the full story. 

"Voldemort is convinced that I’m a complete idiot, and I doubt he’ll concern himself with either me, or Sully, for quite some time, if ever. Can we please give our report tomorrow? I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted, and I need to have Severus with me right now, if you don’t mind. We’ll pick up Sully from the infirmary tomorrow," Welkin told Albus.

"Of course. I completely understand," Albus agreed, unconsciously echoing what Voldemort had said to them when he had given his permission, dismissing them from his presence. Welkin doubted that either of them really cared to understand, completely. The mystery of why Severus was caught in this untenable position had not been fully explained to her, but she suspected that Albus had somehow orchestrated it, like he apparently was accustomed to orchestrate so many other things.

"I can't imagine what you have been through tonight, but I am very happy that you have both returned safely. I will bid you good night, and will see you at breakfast tomorrow." Dumbledore kissed Welkin on her uninjured cheek and left them alone.

"Thank you," Severus told her, after Albus left. "I did not particularly feel like reliving that experience again this evening." 

"You’re welcome," Welkin said quietly, grasping him by the hand, unbelievably happy that she was still able to do so. "Let’s just go back to our chambers, and shut out the rest of the world for a while." Snape's first impulse was to withdraw his hand from hers, since they were in public, but he somehow could not bring himself to do it. 

As they walked to their quarters through the mostly deserted hallways, they passed an occasional prefect or instructor, who stared openly at Welkin’s bruised face before fixing Snape with a curious look, or a frown. The gossip would be all over Hogwarts in a matter of days, if not hours, Snape thought dejectedly. Everyone would be more than happy to assume the worst of him, as they always did - and maybe he deserved it this time. He had told Welkin that he would protect her, and not let anything happen to her. To him, her bruised face was damning evidence that he had been unable to keep his pledge to her. It was also an unpleasant reminder of some things from his childhood that he would rather not think about.

"Don’t pay any attention to them," Welkin told him, sensing what he was thinking by the way his hand tensed in hers each time someone glared at him. "They’re all idiots. They don’t know who you really are. If it wasn’t for the way you handled Lucius Malfoy tonight, we’d _both_ probably be dead."

When they got to their door, Welkin reached under the skirt of her dress to retrieve her wand, and to Snape’s surprise, pointed with it, and pronounced the charm to unlock it. "Courtesy of Professor Flitwick," she explained with a grin. "He’s a very good teacher." 

Welkin suggested they have a drink to calm themselves, and then just lie down and rest for awhile, but Severus insisted on healing her bruised face first, anxious not to have the ugly reminder of what he’d done to her. 

"I shall _never_ strike you again," Snape told her, when she was looking like herself again, and her jaw no longer ached. "No matter the circumstance!" he added vehemently. "Please, forgive me," he begged. "I hate that I…" Welkin kissed him suddenly to shut him up.

"Severus! How many times do I have to tell you? I _asked_ you to do it to fool Voldemort. Please, stop feeling guilty about it!" she pleaded with him. “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all.

"Personally, I think we both should get some kind of Wizarding Actors Award for that performance," Welkin continued. "Poor Narcissa. I hate that we can’t tell her the truth. I kind of liked her, in an odd sort of way, even if she is a bit on the uppity side. Imagine being married to that sleazy-ass poor excuse for a _Don Juan_ and having to crawl into bed with him - even if it _was_ only on the rare occasion when he couldn’t find anything else to stick his wayward two-inch dick into!"

"I would rather _not_ imagine crawling into bed with Lucius Malfoy," Snape said. "He is not my type. And how would you happen to know how large his male organ is?" Snape inquired.

"I’m just guessing. Any man who carries a cane with a head that big, just _has_ to be compensating for something," Welkin told him. "At least, that’s my theory about it."

To distract Severus from going back to his self-recriminations about striking her, Welkin continued her unflattering critique of Lucius. "I’ll bet he has a much fancier nightshirt than yours, though. An expensive little royal-purple silk designer number. It's probably all lacy and frilly, and slit up the sides to show off his skinny aristocratic thighs," Welkin envisioned. "Maybe I should get you one like that," she teased. 

"Only if you are planning to wear it yourself. Otherwise, I would gift it to Albus. It would probably be more his style than mine," he observed, sounding more like himself. 

Welkin giggled, picturing Albus Dumbledore in such a getup. 

"Hey, do you want a snack?" Welkin suggested, suddenly realizing that she had her appetite back. "In all the excitement, we never really _had_ dinner with the Malfoys, did we? I bet those house-elves are _livid_ that all their hard work was wasted."

* * *

Snape and Welkin gave their reports to Dumbledore the next day, and picked up Sully from the infirmary. Things went back to normal for a few weeks in the Snape household. The whispers and speculation about Welkin being a battered wife finally faded away, when no new incidents arose to fuel the gossip. After each of her lessons, Welkin kept pressing Albus to tell her the full story about what Severus was doing with Voldemort, when he was no longer a Death Eater. Why did both the Dark Lord, and Lucius Malfoy, seem to think that he was? To date, Albus had declined to reveal more information to her, but Welkin was determined to wring it out of either him, or Severus, at some point. 

When December 17 rolled around, Welkin was so preoccupied with her lessons, and Sully, that she nearly forgot the significance of the date. Albus unexpectedly cancelled her session with him, her last class of the day, and she was passing the Great Hall when she heard Flitwick’s chorus practicing songs for the Christmas feast. Suddenly, she remembered. Today was their anniversary! Not the anniversary of their marriage - the anniversary of the night that she and Severus had first fucked like crazed animals in her room in the North Tower - the inevitable night that had set everything else in motion. 

How could it already have been a year? I wonder if he remembers? Welkin thought, walking a little faster, headed to their chambers. It was a couple of hours before she had to pick up Sully. Maybe they could get in a little celebratory sex before then, she thought, with excited anticipation.

"Severus?" Welkin called out as she entered their bedchamber. No one answered. Disappointed, she flopped down on their bed on her back, and closed her eyes. She began to replay that first night in her head, starting with the way he’d ripped her midnight-blue silk nightgown from her body, and taken her so urgently on the floor. He had taken her again, twice, after they had finally made it to the bed. The approaching thunderstorm had reached Hogwarts by that time, and the thunder and lightning were at their peak. God! That first night had been so incredibly exciting to her, like something out of her wildest, most persistent dreams and fantasies. As she played it over in her mind, Welkin could almost feel his hot breath on her skin again, and his hands moving over her, his great throbbing cock thrusting into her. Welkin moaned softly, and slid her hand down inside her jeans and panties, to touch herself. 

She was just beginning to really get into it, when she heard a sound. She opened her eyes and turned her head, her hand still on her pussy, expecting to see Severus standing by the bed. A hooded and masked figure was looming over her. She started to scream, but a gloved hand covered her mouth. A bottle was thrust under her nose, and a pungent smell assaulted her nostrils. She tried to struggle, but felt her muscles relaxing, slowly going limp, just before she lost consciousness.

* * *

When Welkin woke up, she was lying on her stomach on a different bed, dressed in a midnight-blue silk nightgown. As she raised her head, a low, silky, deep voice, that she recognized immediately, ordered her: _"Drink this. It will revive you, and then we can begin._ " He had just repeated the first words he had spoken to her, after she had arrived at Hogwarts a year ago, dazed and confused. 

Welkin rolled over, and looked up at Severus, who was offering her a glass of champagne, instead of a potion. An amused smile was on his lips.

"You, asshole!" Welkin grinned at him, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "You scared the shit out of me! I thought Voldemort had sent somebody to kidnap me!" 

She accepted the champagne, as Snape, clad in a short, black bathrobe, and apparently nothing else, sat down beside her, and poured himself a glass of champagne from the bottle, before returning it to the ice bucket by the bed. "Happy Anniversary, my beloved," he toasted. They clinked their glasses together and he leaned in to kiss her, before they each took a sip of champagne. It was extra dry, just the way Welkin liked it. Everything was just the way she liked it. They were back in her old room in the North Tower. The balcony had been magically restored, she noticed, and the door leading to it stood open, a cool breeze swirling the curtains.

"This is so romantic, recreating the setting like this," Welkin said, giving him her seal of approval. “You’re so good with details, and you’re so sweet and thoughtful to have done this,” she told him affectionately.

"I was sorely tempted to abandon the idea, when I saw you pleasuring yourself on the bed," Snape told her. "I very much wanted to join you, right then and there."

"I’m surprised that you didn’t. You have very little self-restraint, where it comes to my pussy," Welkin noted matter-of-factly.

"Hey, who has Sully, and what did you do with my rings?" Welkin asked, noticing that her engagement and wedding rings were missing from her hand.

"Your rings are secure in our bedchamber, and Minerva has agreed to keep Sullivan tonight," he assured her. "Tonight, you are no longer Welkin Snape. Tonight, you are Miss Cooper, the Muggle interloper, and I have come to your room this evening, determined to seduce you." Snape finished his champagne, and refilled both of their glasses. 

"Oh, really? So, you’re rewriting history, by making the seducer, the seduced? Interesting scenario." Welkin grinned, taking another sip. "How does the balcony fit into this nefarious plan of yours? I can see candles floating out there." 

Snape led her to the doorway for a closer look. The table and chairs were there as she remembered, but pushed towards one corner of the balcony. Occupying a quarter of the floor space was a circular bed consisting of a huge two-foot-thick black cushion, set on a dark wooden platform. A silvery fabric canopy was suspended above the bed in place of a headboard, positioned so as not to block the view of the night sky. There was a rich green coverlet covering the bed and multi-colored ethnic print silk cushions of various shapes strewn about for pillows.

"It looks very _Arabian Nights_ ," Welkin told him, looking and sounding quite delighted, much to his pleasure.

Candles floated unsupported around the perimeter of the balcony. Snape waved his hand, and they all lit simultaneously, staying lit despite the wind that fluttered Welkin’s nightgown. From somewhere, there came the soft lilting of flutes playing, sounding like the trilling of birdsong. Some other spell must have been employed as well, because the cool night air felt more temperate within the semi-circular area of the balcony, than it had when they first stepped foot outside. 

"It’s beautiful, Severus. I mean, Professor Snape." Welkin corrected herself.

"I am pleased that you approve, Miss Cooper. Shall we finish our champagne?"

Snape led her back into the bedroom, and they resumed their seats on the bed. When he sat a bit too close to her, Welkin scooted away from him, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles, getting herself into character as the reluctant object of Professor Snape’s wanton desires.

"So…Professor Snape, what brings you to my room so late at night? Has Headmaster Dumbledore figured out a way to return me to my world?" 

"Not precisely, Miss Cooper. But he _did_ ask me to check on you, and see to it that you are quite comfortable in your quarters. _Are_ you comfortable?" Snape asked, scooting closer to her again. "Is there anything that you require from me, to help you feel more… _satisfied?_ "

"Well, I must say, Professor, that I am a little taken aback by the champagne that you arrived with, and your overly casual attire. Is this the way you choose to present yourself in a lady’s boudoir?" She indicated his black bathrobe, and apparent lack of anything beneath it. "It hardly seems proper at such a late hour, since we’ve only just met."

She scooted away from him again, downing her champagne and setting her empty glass aside on the nightstand. She demurely blocked his attempt to refill it, by placing her hand over it.

"As to my level of satisfaction, I’m sure that there is nothing I require from you that I cannot already supply to myself, by my own hand - although I do appreciate your kind concern." 

"I am sorry that you find my attire inappropriate, Miss Cooper. If you find my robe offensive, I would be more than happy to remove it," Snape told her smoothly, starting to loosen the sash that secured it.

Welkin leapt to her feet, and moved away from the bed hastily. "Don’t you dare! You keep yourself covered, sir, or I’ll tell Headmaster Dumbledore what you’re up to!"

"What am I up to?" Snape asked innocently. "You think I am…up to something?" he inquired, standing, and following her across the room. 

"Don’t you play innocent with me. You, sir, are plying me with liquor, and obviously trying to seduce me!" 

"Really, Miss Cooper…I believe you are letting your overly excitable imagination run away with you. I ask you…Have I made _any_ sort of suggestion to you that I wish to bed you? Have I even _attempted_ to touch you? I am deeply offended that you would think that of me," Snape told her. "But since you brought it up, would you care to fuck me?" 

"How dare you use that vulgar word, and ask me that disgusting question! You leave my boudoir _at once_ , Professor Snape!" She pointed imperiously towards the door, her mouth pursed sanctimoniously, and her nose stuck haughtily in the air. 

"My dear Miss Cooper…If I thought for a second that you truly meant that, I would most certainly leave at once. I am nothing, if not a gentleman. But as I have perceived you undressing me hungrily with your eyes at supper each evening in the Great Hall, I am certain that you do not really wish me to leave. Perhaps if I showed you what you have to look forward to, you would be more amenable, and less shy about my suggestion." 

Snape untied the sash to his robe, and opened it wide, displaying his ample assets to her. 

"Oh, my God!" Welkin recoiled in mock horror. "You keep that monstrous thing away from me!" 

"Oh, come now, Miss Cooper. A woman possessed of such a comely countenance, and well-developed attributes as yourself, surely must have seen one of these before, though admittedly, perhaps not one quite so generous in proportions as I am offering you. Do not be so skittish. Perhaps if you touched it?"

Snape grasped her hand, and attempted to guide it towards his massive member. "Where lies the harm in that? If you will but stroke your soft hand across it, you will see that there is nothing to fear. Do you not see how it longs for your touch, and wishes to make your gentle acquaintance?" 

Welkin snatched her hand away from him. "You are sick! I’ll have you know, sir, that I am a _virgin!_ Keep it away! Keep it far away! Why, it’s so over-developed that it's positively... _unnatural!_ ”

Snape nearly lost it, when Welkin claimed to be an innocent virgin, but recovered nicely, continuing his narrative without a missed beat.

"A virgin, you say? How unfortunate for you. I now find that it is my absolute duty, as one of the premier instructors at Hogwarts, to take you under my wing, and see to it that you get the full spectrum and benefit of my considerable lovemaking skills. Do not fear, Miss Cooper. I will divest you of that tiresome virginity of yours in no time at all, and lead you to the _Promised Land_ , singing my praises. Come here to me, my dearest Miss Cooper, and let your wondrous journey to womanhood begin!"

Snape lunged at her, and Welkin scampered away, squealing in mock panic. He energetically chased her around the room, and out the door to the balcony.

* * *

"Since when does the North Tower have a balcony?" Ginny Weasley asked Hermione Granger. Hermione had been watching Ginny at Quidditch practice, and they were walking back to the castle for supper in the Great Hall.

"Who is that?" Ginny asked, as they stopped to peer up at the balcony, nearly, but not yet completely shrouded by the deepening darkness of night.

Two figures appeared to be running about up there, one chasing after the other, and the sound of incomprehensible shouting and squealing floated down to them.

"Oh, my God! It’s Professor Snape and Welkin!" Ginny reported excitedly.

"Ginny! You shouldn’t be watching that. I’m sure it’s private." 

"If it’s supposed to be so _private_ , why are they doing it on a balcony in plain view of anyone who walks by?" Ginny asked. "Just get behind this tree. This, I’ve _got_ to see."

Ginny stared up at the balcony, as Hermione chastely averted her eyes. "Oh, God! His robe is open! I can see his _thing!_ ”

Hermione’s head turned sharply, and her eyes quickly scanned the balcony, almost of their own volition. "I don’t see anything," she told Ginny, squinting into the darkness. 

"Just keep looking. They’re running around all over the place up there. They’re bound to come into view again by the candlelight. I’m telling you, I _saw_ it, and it looked _huge!_ ” Ginny assured her smugly. 

"It’s too dark. I can’t see anything, and we shouldn’t be looking anyway," Hermione repeated, sounding annoyed. Her cheeks suddenly flushed a bright red. 

"Why are you blushing? You didn’t even see anything. Are you…Oh, my God! You’ve got a _crush_ on Professor Snape!" Ginny crowed, as Hermione blushed again.

* * *

Snape finally had Welkin cornered. His advantage was that, due to her fear of heights, she wouldn’t run close to the edge of the balcony, and after he closed the door to the bedchamber, and performed a complicated locking charm - one that would confound her simple skills - she had nowhere else to go but the circular bed. She was standing atop it now, eyeing him warily as he confidently closed in on her. 

"Now, Miss Cooper, please stop this ridiculous scampering about, and admit that your greatest desire is to be deflowered by me. I grow impatient with your attempts to elude me. I have you cornered. Admit your defeat. Lie down, and let me make a real woman of you, my pet."

"Never!" Welkin shouted. "I’m saving myself for my wedding night!" She faked right, and then ran to the left, trying to bound off the bed past him. Unfortunately, she got a foot tangled in her nightgown, and tripped. Snape caught her under her arms, and pulling her to her feet, threw her over his shoulder. 

"Victory!" he shouted, flinging her on her back on the bed, and falling across her. 

Welkin squirmed like an eel beneath him. "No fair! I tripped! Do over! I get a do over!" Welkin dissolved into laughter, no longer able to keep up the pretense of the game. 

"I shall give you all the _‘do overs’_ that you like tonight, Miss Cooper. Are you ready for your deflowering now?" Snape growled in her ear. 

Welkin sighed, and stopped struggling, turning magnanimous in her defeat. "Will you be gentle with me?" she asked, trying to sound like an apprehensive virgin.

"Most assuredly not!" Snape promised, claiming his victory kiss.

* * *

"On a lovemaking scale of one to ten, _that_ was a ten to the fourth power," Welkin told Severus, as they lay in each other's arms in the peaceful aftermath of climax, looking up at the myriad stars visible in the clear night sky. "It’s beautiful out here tonight. You come up with some of the most romantic ideas, sometimes." Welkin complimented him a third time. 

"I have plenty of inspiration," Snape replied, stroking her neck and shoulder. "Her name is Welkin - the only Muse that I require." 

"I _loved_ the role-play." 

"I thought that you might." Snape smiled. "You seem to enjoy trying on other personalities and speech patterns. At times, you even affect a bit of a British accent."

"That’s because I like the way that you talk, and the phrases that you use. One of my favorite things you said earlier was about leading me _‘to the Promised Land singing your praises’_ , and the other was about your cock wishing to make my _‘gentle acquaintance’_. That was _so_ you!" She laughed with delight, in the low, naughtily sexy way she often did when they were in bed. 

"My favorite thing was you pretending to be a shy and apprehensive virgin," he snickered. 

"Well, I was! Once upon a time, I was, and you were too," she added. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Would it stop you if I said no?" 

"Probably not," she admitted. "So, can I ask you if you and Lily ever…" Welkin trailed off to let him fill in the thought. 

"Made love? No, we did not. She was never interested in me that way," he admitted honestly. He was finally admitting it to himself, as much as he was to Welkin.

"How many women have you been with, before me?" Welkin asked the question she’d wanted to ask him for a long time. 

"If you mean love affairs, then I would have to say none," Snape said. "The majority of my experience has been through…seeking professional services," he chose to phrase it. 

"You mean prostitutes?" Welkin propped her chin on his chest, looking up at him with a wide-eyed, deceptively child-like expression.

"Yes."

"Are there prostitutes in Hogsmeade?" 

"On the rare occasions that the need became too great to satisfy myself, I went to London," he said flatly. "It was not always a pleasant experience. It was rather depressing at times, actually." 

"I thought you said that you didn’t masturbate." Welkin caught the inconsistency with his past stories immediately.

"I meant that I did not ever do it as a floor show for someone else," he corrected. "The hired women certainly never requested it." 

"You’ve never done it with anyone other than a prostitute?" Welkin pressed.

"One time, with…someone I knew." 

"Anybody I know?" she asked, trying to pretend that she wasn’t eaten up with curiosity.

Snape hesitated. Welkin was staring at him with a strange expression, something like a mixture of curiosity and jealousy.

"Yes," he finally admitted. "You just met her recently, and unfortunately, you are well acquainted with the man she married." 

Welkin looked thoughtful for a brief few moments, until her mind quickly made the connection. _"Narcissa?_ You fucked Narcissa Malfoy?!" Welkin sat up and regarded him with her mouth open, clearly shocked.

"It was one time only, and she had not yet married Lucius. It was my first sexual experience. She was a bit older than me, and somewhat more experienced, but rather emotionally distant, as I recall. She did not seem to enjoy it that much, although it was she who initiated the experience." 

Welkin frowned. "She’s very beautiful now. She must have _really_ been something then. I suppose you really enjoyed it?" Welkin probed, sounding a little put out. 

Snape smirked at Welkin. "Your claws are showing, my little she-cat. There is no need to be jealous of Narcissa. As I said, it was only the one time, and she was my first. I was completely inexperienced, and it was over so quickly that I scarcely remember it. I have no desire for a repeat performance, if that is what is causing your discomfort."

"I’m not jealous," Welkin lied.

Snape gave her a skeptical look.

"Okay, maybe just a little," she admitted. 

Snape didn’t change the topic, but he did focus on a different question. "What about you? How many other men have there been before me?" 

"Oh, well…uh…a few." Welkin didn't really want to get into that. 

He stared at her fixedly, obviously not satisfied with that somewhat evasive answer.

"Well, it depends on whether you mean intercourse, or other things," she added. "There have been three, if you mean intercourse."

"Did you...love any of these other men?" he asked evenly, his eyes glittering, and his lips compressed tightly. It was Snape’s turn to look jealous. 

"Well, I thought I did at the time. But, now, I think it must have just been infatuation." 

"Are your feelings so changeable then? You thought you loved them, but they came to mean nothing to you, and you abandoned them?" Snape was getting agitated, as he ran the imagined scenario through his head. 

"No. It’s not like that, Severus. It was a mutual parting, on fairly good terms, in each case. My feelings aren’t changeable. I just mistook sexual attraction and infatuation for love, that’s all." 

"How do you know that is not what you…"

Snape was reluctant to finish the question about himself, but Welkin answered it for him anyway, stroking his cheek as she did so.

"I know that I wasn’t really in love with any of them, because the feelings I have for you now are so different - so strong, and so much deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before. You are the only man I’ve ever _truly_ loved, Severus. You are the only man I’m ever going to want for the rest of my life. I’m as sure of that as I am that you truly love me." Welkin smiled at him. "I was willing to give up my freedom to marry you, and I had your baby, for God’s sake! Surely, that tells you something!?" 

Ah, yes. Welkin’s ever-present need for freedom - the fact that she had chosen him, over it, certainly did speak volumes to Snape. Her solicitous attitude towards him and their child, did also indicate to him that she was satisfied with being part of their family unit. She was the best and most valuable part, in Snape’s opinion. Severus felt his jealous uncertainly subside as he considered the choices she had made regarding him. 

"I love you, and need you more than anything. My life would mean nothing without you in it," he told her. "I bless the day that you found Hogwarts, and whatever benevolent god allowed you to penetrate our defenses, and brought you here to me." He began to kiss her, at first tenderly, then with a deepening passion. 

Maybe it was time to explain to Severus that the _‘benevolent god_ ’ who had brought her here to him was actually Albus Dumbledore, Welkin thought. But not tonight. She changed her mind as Severus began to work his way from her lips, down her jawline and throat to her breasts, and the familiar tingling between her thighs began. There had been enough talk and revelations for one night. Tonight was just perfect the way it was, Welkin decided.

* * *

Severus eased his way out of bed without waking Welkin, and went inside to relieve his bladder. On his way back outside, he checked the clock on the mantel of the fireplace. It was ten minutes past two in the morning. Returning to the balcony, he stood against the railing closest to the bed, watching Welkin sleep, as he enjoyed the feel of the magically moderated night breeze on his nude body. Welkin’s penchant for wanting to dispense with her clothing once she was in the privacy of their chambers was beginning to rub off on him. He was starting to understand the sense of freedom she talked about it giving her, in being unrestricted by the convention of clothing.

Snape had extinguished the candles on the balcony hours ago, but the light from the nearly full moon was sufficient that he could see Welkin clearly enough. She shifted from her left side to her right in her sleep, mumbling something as she did. Welkin often talked in her sleep. Sometimes the things she said made sense, and other times they didn’t, but at least she was no longer having dreams about Voldemort. Those had subsided after the night they returned from the Malfoys.

Thinking of Welkin’s jealousy of Narcissa when he had revealed that she had been his first, Snape smiled to himself. Welkin had no reason to concern herself that she suffered from comparison, but it pleased him when she exhibited jealousy. As he had told her, although beautiful, Narcissa had been emotionally remote and, unlike her sister Bella, did not seem to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh when she was younger. He sensed that was probably still true. All of her energies now went into raising her son, maintaining the décor of, and managing Malfoy Manor, and fighting a losing battle trying to keep Lucius in line. 

Welkin, on the other hand, was so emotionally open, and sexually responsive, that Severus sometimes wondered how she ever could have been as _‘painfully shy’_ as she claimed to him she had been when she was young.

Over the course of the past year, he and Welkin had argued, bickered, and debated endlessly. They had also basked in each other’s companionship, adoration, love, and support. They had made love incessantly, matching each other perfectly in the intensity of their enjoyment of sex in all of its permutations. They had occasionally irritated each other to the point where she, he, or they both, would rebel against the chafing and stalk out; only to return within hours, begging each other’s forgiveness, and swearing they could not live without each other. No, Welkin need never worry that she would ever suffer by comparison to anyone for the rest of their lives, Severus thought.

His beloved wife sighed in her sleep, and shifted onto her back abruptly. Her movements dislodged the coverlet, and sent it sliding off her nude body. Her legs ended up splayed apart invitingly. To complete the invitation, he heard her sigh again and utter his name in her sleep.

It was well past midnight, but perhaps it was time for a belated midnight snack, Snape thought, moving onto the bed carefully, so as not to wake her. He positioned himself between Welkin’s splayed legs, and bent down close to her exposed pussy. His tongue licked at the puffy lips delicately, flicking back and forth over them before traveling up and down the length of the crevice between them. He continued lapping at her until he could taste her pussy begin to respond by releasing her sweet nectar for him to gather.

With his fingers, he spread her apart, and then thrust his tongue inside her, going in and out rapidly, the tip of his large hooked nose rubbing rhythmically against her clit. Welkin moaned softly in her sleep, and uttered his name again, exciting him to increase his efforts. The smell and the taste of her made his cock stand at attention, eager to be included. He drove his tongue deeper into her with each thrust, just as he would have if it had been his cock. Welkin began to squirm in her sleep, her hips moving from side to side, and she made little whimpering sounds. Faster and faster his tongue impaled her. He moved his head from side to side, pressing his nose against her clit even harder. Her juices were flowing so profusely now that the bed cushion beneath her was sodden with them. She was now alternately panting and whimpering loudly, as she neared orgasm. Welkin gave a loud cry as Severus felt her vaginal walls begin to contract, gripping and releasing his tongue spasmodically. He thrust his tongue into her as deeply as possible, and held it there. He continued to move his nose and face from side to side over her clit while thus encased within her. 

"Oh…my… _GOD!_ " Heard, but unseen by Snape, Welkin’s strong orgasm shocked her awake. Her eyes widened, and then rolled back in her head slightly, as her pussy continued to convulse. _"OH, GOD! OH, FUCK! OH, GOD! NO…NO…NO!"_ she chanted. Her hips rose off the bed as the strong pulsating continued. _"OH, GOD…SEVERUS!"_ She shouted his name into the night sky, and clutched at his back, as he relentlessly sought to extend her pleasure as long as possible, working his magic expertly between her pale thighs. 

As her orgasm finally began to diminish, he withdrew from her, and moved up between her legs. His face damp with her juices, Severus thrust into her, and she automatically raised her legs to throw them over his shoulders. He grasped them to steady himself as he fucked. Welkin’s fading orgasm was replaced by a new tension, building quickly as Snape thrust his cock into her to its deepest. He began his own chant, repeating her name with each new groan that erupted from between his lips.

A few more deep thrusts, and Welkin went over the edge again. _"SEV-E-RUS!"_ she yelled again, drawing out each lovely beloved syllable of his name. 

_"WEL…KIN…MY…LOVE!"_ His low, steady chant erupted into a lusty bellow that eclipsed her own cries, as it followed her shout into the starry night sky.

* * *

"Do you know what I think?" Welkin asked him, as daylight began to appear over the horizon.

"What do you think, my sweet?" Snape asked drowsily, knowing that pretending to be asleep would not work. When Welkin was determined to talk, she could rarely be deterred from doing so.

Looking a lot fresher than he himself felt, she was sitting up in bed, fondly running her fingers through his hair, while his head comfortably reclined in her lap. She took a sip from the mimosa she held in her other hand, freshly and discreetly delivered by the Hogwarts house-elves thirty minutes ago, along with a large breakfast tray on a cart, just as Snape had requested when he arranged this surprise for Welkin.

Snape lazily waved his hand, and the cart rolled itself out of the bedroom, and into place next to the table and chairs. 

"You’ve got to teach me that!" Welkin said, distracted by the arrival of food. "Oh, yeah...I was going to say...I think you should ask for your money back from those prostitutes. As far as I’m concerned, they should have been paying you. I think you have a natural talent for fucking, and all things sexual. You really _are_ the Pussy Master, sweetie." 

"If you keep complimenting me like that, I may start charging _you_ ," he told her, smiling up at her in a relaxed way. It was slowly becoming a less rare expression to see on his face when he was alone with her.

"As long as you give me a big discount. I _am_ your wife, after all. As a matter of fact, why don’t we set up a nice cathouse in Hogsmeade, and I’ll start pimping you out? I’m sure Albus wouldn’t care, as long as we did it in the evenings, after your classes." 

Snape sat up, and reached for his robe. "I’m afraid that we would starve, if I was your only attraction," he said, donning the robe, and tying the sash. "In case you have not noticed, you are the only woman who is interested in my services." 

"Not true. There was Huldra Helliwell. But, it’s just as well that you don’t cotton to the idea, because I wouldn’t want to share you anyway." Welkin pulled her nightgown on over her head, and rose to shake it into place. 

"Cotton to?" Snape said, looking puzzled. "Is that another one of your southern Americanisms?" 

She didn’t answer as she sauntered past him to the table to survey their breakfast selection. "Bacon!" she reported excitedly. "Tons of it!" 

She sounded as excited about the bacon as she had about his lovemaking, Snape thought, a bit disappointed. "I suppose I shall just have to try harder," he muttered to himself, joining her at the table.

* * *


	20. The Family Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin copes with her lack of experience with motherhood. Severus copes with his jealousy when a man from Welkin's Muggle past arrives with Albus.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter introduces another of my original characters, Glenn.

* * *

"This child has no self-control," Snape complained. "This is the third nappy which I have changed this evening, and now he is openly smirking at me, despite my diligence."

Welkin ambled over for a look. "That’s not a smirk. It’s a smile. The book says they don’t smile until two months. He’s two weeks early."

"Why is he smiling?" Snape demanded. "There is nothing amusing about what I am doing."

"Maybe he recognizes your voice, and he’s happy to see you. Or maybe he’s just happy he’s not still in a urine-soaked piece of cloth anymore. Wouldn’t you be?"

"Maybe is not a definitive answer, Welkin. You are the child’s mother. Shouldn’t you know these things, without having to consult a book?"

Welkin rolled her eyes, and walked away without comment. 

"Do not walk away from me, Welkin. This is a serious issue." He followed her with the baby.

"No, it’s not. You’re trying to _make_ one out of it, but it’s not," she said curtly, starting to get annoyed. "You’re just mad because it’s your night to change diapers, and you don’t want to."

"That is not true." 

"Okay," she snapped, "it’s not true! How would I know? So, now I’m not only a bad mother, I’m a liar too!"

"Welkin, please restrain your emotions. Sullivan will become disturbed by your tone of voice." Snape considered for a moment, remembered something he had read in one of the books, and unwisely added, "Have you resumed your monthly cycles? You seem more easily agitated than usual, my pet."

Welkin glared at him. "You’d better be glad you’re holding our baby right now, Severus Snape, because if you weren’t, I’d try my best to kick your smug, insulting ass!"

Sullivan chose that moment to screw up his little mouth and face, and start to cry loudly.

"He is crying," Snape said, holding him out to Welkin, who snatched him angrily.

"No shit, Sherlock? I think I can figure _that_ much out, thank you!" 

Welkin sat on the bed with Sully, and began to unbutton her blouse. "I’m sorry that _mean_ ole Daddy upset you, Sully," she cooed to the baby, expressing her irritation at Severus indirectly. Adjusting her nursing bra for access, she placed Sully against her breast, and he abruptly stopped crying, as he latched onto her teat, and began to suckle.

"I am not the one who..." Severus began his protest.

"I guess this is at least _one_ thing you can’t do better than I can," Welkin groused, suddenly tearing up, her lower lip trembling.

Crying was not something that Welkin did often. Snape looked confused, then decided to fall back on a technique that seemed to work much of the time with Welkin. When in doubt what to do, apologize to her.

"I am sorry. I never meant to imply that you were not a good mother. You are an excellent mother," Snape assured her.

"No, I’m _not!_ " Welkin started to cry in earnest, big tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don’t know _anything_ about babies! I almost let him roll off a table in the Gryffindor common room yesterday. If Fred Weasley hadn’t have caught him before he hit the floor, he might have cracked his little head right open, just like... _Humpty Dumpty!_ " Welkin sobbed miserably at the memory.

"Last week, I forgot to pick him up from Luna for three whole hours! I was studying, and I just forgot. What kind of a mother forgets her own child? That’s not even the worst of it. Sometimes, when he cries and he just won’t stop, no matter what I do, I wish he’d just…disappear," Welkin admitted. "I don’t _really_ want that," she hastily assured Snape. "I just sometimes _wish_ that he would, so that I can concentrate, and have a little peace and quiet."

To her surprise, Severus did not berate her for her weakness, or her lack of proficiency in her role as mother, but sat down beside her, put his arm around her, and used his other hand to guide her tear-stained face against his shoulder.

"That does not make you a bad mother. Perhaps you are just taking on more than you should right now. I shall attempt to be of more assistance to you in the evenings, and tomorrow, I will arrange for a daytime nanny from the agency in Hogsmeade," he told her.

Because their available selection of sitters for Sullivan were the students and teachers at Hogwarts, that often left Welkin fending for herself with the baby during the daytime hours, when they were all in classes, he realized. The pressure of balancing both her studies, and the baby, was obviously beginning to wear on her.

"Really? If we can afford it, that would be wonderful! Do you still trust me with him?" Welkin asked anxiously.

"Of course I do," Snape said. "As I said, you are an excellent mother, and I have every confidence in you. Now, stop crying, and when Sullivan is finished, we shall go to the Great Hall for supper. I believe the desserts tonight include gooseberry crumble - one of your favorites."

* * *

Welkin was enjoying her gooseberry cobbler, her mood much improved, as Snape held Sullivan. Dumbledore had still not arrived in the Great Hall for supper, and she wondered where he might be. Usually he would have left a message of some sort, if he was planning to be absent.

Minerva, having finished her own dessert, got up from her seat and walked over to them, asking Snape if she might hold the baby. She looked especially pleased that Sully was dressed out in the tartan outfit with little suede booties that she had gifted for him. Ever since the night of his birth, Minerva had seemed quite taken with Sully, often offering to babysit him in the evenings, if they had plans they wanted to pursue that would have been difficult with a baby along.

"Oh, there’s Albus," Minerva said, drawing their attention to two figures in the entranceway to the Great Hall. One was Dumbledore. The other was a slender, but muscular man about six feet tall, with medium brown hair, who was dressed in jeans, and a pale blue pullover sweater. They walked towards the head table and were about halfway there when Dumbledore’s companion suddenly yelled out a loud greeting. "Wells!"

Snape saw Welkin’s eyes fix immediately on the stranger, then light up with recognition as he shouted again, drawing attention from the students at their tables.

"Wells! Get yourself down here! Right now, girl!" 

"Glenn!" Welkin leapt up and ran around the table, bounding down the center aisle, and into the stranger’s arms. 

Snape watched, at first startled, and then annoyed, as they continued to hug, and the man kissed Welkin on the cheek. Who was this man who obviously knew Welkin well enough to engender such a happy reaction from her? Snape involuntarily pressed his lips together tightly, and glared at the interloper. Was this one of Welkin’s old lovers? If he had any ideas of trying to woo her back, away from him, Snape would quickly disenchant him of that notion, at the point of his wand if necessary.

Snape gritted his teeth, and stared with cold, glittering eyes as Dumbledore and Welkin carried on an amiable conversation with the man, the stranger’s arm comfortably around Welkin’s waist. What was the pet name he had shouted? Wells? Yes, that was it, _Wells_. What a ridiculous appellation, he thought angrily.

* * *

"So, which one is he, Wells?" Glenn turned to scan the head table. 

"He’s the handsome one, of course." She grinned happily. "He's the one sitting next to the woman in green. The woman who's holding the baby, our son, Sully."

Glenn gave Snape the once-over. What he saw was a scowling, unpleasant looking man, who was also sporting the largest, least attractive honker of a nose that he'd seen on a human male in many a day. Welkin thought he was handsome? Was she blind? She was looking at the man as if he were Brad Pitt, naked, and covered in chocolate. Most women would have preferred someone like Pitt, but not Wells. She collected the strays, Glenn thought ruefully. He had never really expected her to marry one though. What kind of mess had she gotten herself into now? 

"Well, he certainly is _unique_ looking, Wells," he said, giving her a crooked, teasing smile. "Where do you live - the Bat Cave?"

Welkin laughed in spite of herself. "No! Of course not. We live in the dungeon," she informed him. She laughed again when Glenn rolled his eyes at that bit of news.

"You're living in a dungeon. What an improvement. I always knew you liked the weirdoes, Wells, but I never dreamed you’d ever take it this far."

"Now, Glenn, please be nice to him. Don’t give him a hard time. I want him to like you. Please?"

"Cross my heart - my best behavior." He grinned at her, the cocky expression mirroring her own.

Dumbledore excused himself and started making a tour of the student tables. Welkin clasped Glenn’s hand in hers, and led him toward the head table, noticing the interest he was drawing from some of the teenage witches seated at the tables they passed. Oblivious, unintentional heartbreaker, that was her Glenn. He never had seemed to notice the heart-palpitating effect he had on a lot of women, with his clear blue eyes, dazzling smile, and easygoing, somewhat cheeky, teasing manner.

Welkin led him up to Snape, who was looking daggers at him, a sour, angry expression affixed to his sallow face.

"Glenn, I’d like you to meet my husband, Professor Severus Snape. And this is Professor Minerva McGonagall."

Snape stared at him fixedly, feeling a little queasy at the sight of the handsome man with his hand still clasping Welkin’s so intimately.

"Severus, this is Glenn Cooper, my brother." 

Glenn held out his hand to Snape. "Great to meet you, Severus." Glenn smiled at him. "You must be quite the man, if you tamed Wells, and got her to finally tie the knot. She’s run away from more men who wanted to corral her, in more countries than I can name."

"Glenn! There weren't that many, really!" Welkin interjected hastily, lest Severus get the wrong idea about just how active she might have been prior to meeting him. She had enough of a battle with his jealousy without adding in that false impression. Well...somewhat false, she thought.

Snape’s expression had shifted to one of surprised relief. Her brother! Yes, of course. Welkin had mentioned that she had a brother who was four years older than she was. He slowly stood and raised his hand, accepting the handshake. "Very pleased to meet my wife’s brother," he offered formally.

Glenn repeated the handshake with Minerva. "I'm pleased to meet you too, ma’am. That’s a beautiful outfit you’re wearing, if you don’t mind me saying so. It brings out the green in your eyes."

"It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Cooper," Minerva responded, with a slight Scottish brogue. What charming manners, she thought.

"Marie couldn’t make the trip, because of work," Glenn told Welkin. "She’s at home with Donovan. She sends her love, and her best wishes. We were both pretty shocked when Professor Dumbledore showed up on our doorstep in Dallas with the news that you were married, and had a baby, for God’s sake. Not to mention all that stuff about witchcraft and the like. I guess all those old family stories must be true after all. I know you’re not very good about keeping in touch, Wells, but this is taking it a little far, don’t you think? When were you going to tell us?"

"Marie is Glenn’s wife, and Donovan is their son," Welkin explained to Snape and Minerva.

"I’ll fill you in on all the details from the past year later, Glenn. Do you want to hold Sully?" She took him from Minerva, and placed him in Glenn’s arms.

"Hello, little man," he said. "I’m your uncle, Glenn." He stroked the mass of black hair on Sully’s head, which always seemed to be in disarray. Thank God that the baby looked normal, at least, considering what his father looked like, Glenn thought. 

Glenn shifted his attention to look at Snape again. He gave a casual once-over to the long, dark robes, the long, dark hair, and the unsmiling, severe face.

"Wells tells me that you’re a wizard," he remarked. "When she was a kid, she’d always cry until I gave in and let her watch that damn _Wizard of Oz_ movie on tv every year. It kind of figures that she’d end up marrying one of you guys. It could have been worse, I guess. You could have had big, pointy ears, and been that Vulcan dude, Dr. Spock." Glenn laughed.

" _Mister_ Spock," Welkin corrected him. 

Snape narrowed his eyes, wondering suspiciously who this Spock person was, and just how intimately Welkin had known him. He would have to ask her later, when they were in the privacy of their bedchamber.

* * *

"I do not think that he approves of me as your husband," Snape told Welkin as she was getting ready for bed later that evening.

Welkin, Snape, and Welkin’s brother, Glenn, had spent a few hours in their chambers chatting, before she escorted him to the quarters that had been prepared for him for the night. Welkin and Glenn had actually done most of the chatting, catching up on the news of each other’s lives, with Severus listening, and answering an occasional question that Glenn threw out to him.

"Don’t be silly. Of course, he approves of you," Welkin protested. "Glenn’s just a little bit conservative, that’s all. He’s not used to somebody as…" Welkin searched for an appropriate word. "...as _exotic_ as you," she finally settled on. "But, he’s a really good guy. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He just likes to tease people, that’s all."

"He told me I had 'girl' hair." Snape frowned, putting down his quill pen. He was sitting at the writing desk, going over some of his students' essays. "And he persists in calling me _‘sour cat’_ ," Snape complained. "I do not understand why," he said, looking sour.

"Well, that _proves_ that he likes you. He wouldn’t call you 'sour cat' if he didn’t. He only gives nicknames to people if he likes them," Welkin said, trying to soothe Snape’s ruffled pride. "He was only teasing you about your hair, Severus. I told you, he’s conservative. He’s never had his hair long in his life. He doesn’t drink. He mostly doesn’t curse. He follows all the rules. He hardly ever gets angry. He’s a real straight arrow," Welkin said.

"You are sure he is _your_ brother?" Snape asked with mock disbelief. 

"Positive." Welkin had finished her bedtime preparations, and crawled into bed. Sully was already fast asleep in his cradle.

"How did Dumbledore know where to contact him?" 

"Before we left to meet Voldemort at the Malfoys, I gave Albus a note with his address in Dallas. I wanted to make sure if anything happened to the both of us that night, that there would be someone to take Sully, and keep him safe.

"I guess Albus decided to contact him as a surprise for me. I haven’t seen Glenn in six years, and that was at his wedding to Marie. I’ve only seen pictures of my nephew, Donovan, and he’s…I think he’s three," she guessed. "I’m not very good at staying in touch. Marie has asked me to visit lots of times, but something always seems to come up. We’ve mostly just traded emails in the past several years. Albus says Glenn can only stay one day. He has to leave before supper tomorrow. He combined this trip with a convention in London that he’s attending for the company he works for."

Snape knew something that Welkin didn’t. Dumbledore had told him that one of the reasons he had visited the dwindling Cooper clan in Texas, was expressly to gather what additional information he could about the family. Glenn Cooper, though reticent to talk much about the family history, had reluctantly loaned him a journal written by their late grandmother, with the stipulation that it be passed on to Welkin when Albus was through examining it.

"I am pleased for you that you have gotten to see your brother," Snape said thoughtfully. "Even if he does not favor me as someone who should be married to you."

"Yes, he does! Stop _saying_ that. But even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t give a flying fuck. I happen to favor you _plenty_ , and you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, Severus Snape. _You’re_ my family now - you and Sully."

Deciding that was enough discussion on that tiresome subject, Welkin suddenly threw back the coverlet, and struck a reclining pose, letting the deep side slit in her emerald green nightgown fall open to expose the length of one lovely leg, up to the hip. She smiled invitingly.

Snape smiled back. "Welkin, are you attempting to seduce me?" he asked hopefully.

"Me? Never. No, sir - no way - no how. But why don’t you put away the essays for tonight, and move that hot wizard ass of yours on over here? Show me how much you appreciate me. That is, unless that _girly_ hair of yours has sapped all of your testosterone, and you’d rather just go to sleep?" she challenged.

Snape rose from his chair and strode towards her at a deliberate pace. Stopping in front of her, he looked down, letting his eyes rove boldly over her reclining curves.

"I’ll show you how _girly_ I am," he promised her, assuming the voice he used to intimidate his students. He let his robe fall to the floor, revealing his partial erection. "Does this look effeminate to you?"

"Hell, no!" she conceded, staring appreciatively. "Something tells me I’m going to have to buy another new nightgown," she predicted, seeing the look of determination on Severus’s face. Her husband definitely had the look of a man with something to prove. She would have to insult his masculinity more often, if this was the result.

"Something tells me that you are right, my pet," Snape agreed, grasping the juncture of the split in her gown in both hands, and ripping it asunder.

* * *

"She’s pretty good with that thing, isn’t she?" Glenn commented to Snape, as they stood watching Welkin practice dueling with her wand with Dumbledore. Welkin had spent the day touring Hogwarts with Glenn, even dropping in on one of Snape’s classes, to quietly observe for a while. Now, Glenn was due to leave for London in under an hour.

"Yes. She is coming along quite well in nearly all of her lessons," Snape agreed. 

"I have to be honest with you, Severus. I have some misgivings about Wells being with you. We don’t cotton to all this magic business in our family - never have - no matter what all those old family stories and legends say."

Cotton to? Snape thought. There was that odd American term again. 

"Really?" Snape said coldly. "I was not aware of any misgivings that you might have."

"It’s nothing against you - honestly, it isn’t. Wells really loves you, that much is plain, and I think you make her happy, but she’s my baby sister, and I just don’t want to see her get hurt. Wells has always kind of stuck out like a sore thumb, anyway, and our family is all about trying to blend in. When you seem like everybody else, you’re not a target. Marrying a wizard, and learning magic, is not blending in."

"Has it ever occurred to you that she might now be where she has always belonged? She has magic in her bloodline, as do you, whether you care to embrace it or not," Snape told him. "Here, in my world, she _is_ blending in." He averted his coal-black eyes from Glenn’s crystal-clear blue ones.

"Maybe you’re right," Glenn told him. "I guess I just need to know one thing, really. Wells loves you. I just need to hear from your lips that you feel the same about her - and look me in the eyes when you tell me - I’ll know if it’s true, if I can see your eyes."

Snape looked him in the eyes. "I would give my _life_ for Welkin," he said succinctly.

Glenn stared at him a long while, as if considering what to say. He finally reached out his hand to Snape for a parting handshake. Snape clasped his hand firmly. "Take care of her, Severus," he told Snape. "...and you’re welcome at our home in Dallas, anytime." He picked up his travel bag, and walked off in Welkin’s direction to tell her goodbye.

* * *

"What did you say to Glenn this afternoon?" Welkin asked him curiously, between sips of her coffee. "He told me if I ever thought of leaving you, I’d be crazy, and he’d have me committed."

Snape looked surprised, but pleased. "The truth, my dear Welkin. I only told him the truth."

* * *


	21. Welkin Gets a Comeuppance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape decides that Welkin requires correction of her cocky attitude after learning of several instances of her disregarding his instructions and lying to him.

* * *

"Severus, can I see you a moment?" Dumbledore called Snape aside as he was on his way to the Potions Lab. "Something has been brought to my attention concerning Welkin, and I am hoping that you will be able to deal with it without my intervention."

"Concerning Welkin?" 

"Yes. Madam Hooch tells me that Welkin has not been attending her tutoring sessions. Would you happen to know why?" 

"No. I was unaware that she has been absent from her broom flight practice. How many sessions has she missed?" 

"The last two, I am told. Could you please discuss it with her? She tends to be rather dismissive of me, I’m afraid," Albus said. "Please impress upon her the importance of attending _all_ of her classes, not just the ones that she enjoys."

"Speaking of which, I would like to ask why you have delayed her instruction with me in Potions," Snape inquired.

"Delayed? I have not sanctioned a delay in any of Welkin’s classes, including Potions. Has she said otherwise?" Albus looked surprised. 

"I will…deal with it," Snape said, choosing not to elaborate. 

"Please see that you do," Dumbledore told him, watching thoughtfully as he hurried off again. 

Snape thought about Welkin's deceptions as he strode along quickly with a frown on his face. She had deliberately misled him about a supposed delay in her starting Potions class instruction under his tutelage. She had been avoiding her flight instruction, most probably due to her fear of heights, which they had discussed at length. She had assured him that she would attempt to master her fear. It appeared that she had misled him about that, as well.

The Weasley twins were loitering in the hallways again, no doubt looking for more trouble to get into, Snape thought. When they saw him approaching, instead of scattering as they usually did, they darted out to greet him.

"Professor Snape, we have a message from our mum," George Weasley said. "She said to tell you that she’s delighted that you and Welkin can come to the Christmas party we’re having at the Burrow this year. She was very surprised when Welkin Owled that you’d both be attending, but she’s quite pleased that you can."

"Welkin answered the invitation?" Snape asked, looking surprised himself. He had seen no such invitation. Neither had Welkin mentioned it to him. He did usually receive one, but had never accepted in years past.

"Yes, sir. She did. Is anything wrong?" 

"No. Nothing is amiss. Do you not each have classes to attend?" Snape narrowed his eyes at them. 

"Yes, sir!" they said in unison, and he watched with annoyance as they both loped off down the hallway, until they disappeared around a corner.

Welkin’s list of transgressions was growing at an alarming pace, Snape thought, as he continued on his way to the Potions Lab. Apparently, she assumed that she had carte blanche to do whatever she liked, or not to do the things she was required to do, which were important to her education.

Snape realized that he often indulged Welkin, sometimes to a ridiculous degree, but now she was lying to him, and keeping things from him. Had she really thought that he wouldn’t find out? Or was she so certain that she could manipulate him with her charms, that she had no reason to worry about that? This state of affairs could not continue. Tonight, he would assert himself with her. She would be made to realize just what was expected of her, as a student at Hogwarts, and as his wife. The charming, but entirely too willful, Mrs. Welkin Snape was in for quite a rude awakening tonight, he told himself. It was time that she realized that the entire Wizarding World did not revolve around her and her whims.

* * *

Welkin parted from Ginny and Luna, waving goodbye cheerfully. Their shopping trip to Hogsmeade had been quite successful, she concluded. In the various bags she was carrying were several new outfits for Sully, a new dress for herself to wear to the Weasley Christmas bash, some of the liqueur-filled chocolates that Severus favored, a book on ancient Persian spells and incantations that he’d been wanting, and a pair of green silk boxers that she thought would make a nice change from his usual black or grey.

"Welkin!" Albus Dumbledore shouted at her, as he exited the Great Hall after his supper.

"Hi, Albus! I’ve got to go. Can I talk to you later?" She transferred her bags to one hand, and blew him a kiss. "Severus is probably wondering where I am."

"Indeed, he is," Dumbledore said to himself, as she raced off on her way to the dungeons.

* * *

"I’m home!" Welkin sauntered into the bedroom and dropped her bags on the floor, as she saw Snape sitting in the large cushioned chair where he often sat to read during the day. "Did you miss me?" She smiled brightly at him, oblivious to the fact that Severus was upset with her, despite the big clue that he was frowning at her rather severely. After all, he frowned fairly often about a lot of things. How was she supposed to know that his current frown was meant for her, and that she should tread lightly around him tonight?

"Where have you been?" Snape asked tersely, glancing at the bags she had dropped near the door.

"Shopping in Hogsmeade, with Ginny and Luna. I got a few things for you. Let me show them to you," she said eagerly, starting to reach for the bags again.

"Come here, Welkin," he commanded. "Those things can wait." 

She stopped, and wandered over to him slowly, finally sensing by his serious tone that something was up. "Where’s Sully?" she asked, seeing that the cradle was empty.

"Minerva has him for the evening."

" _Oooohhhh_ ," she said, totally misinterpreting his intentions. "Are you feeling frisky this evening?" She deposited herself into his lap, with a wiggle of her bottom, intentionally grinding herself against him. He felt himself immediately begin to respond, and angrily pushed her off his lap onto the floor, quickly rising to his feet. 

"That’s not going to work. _Not this time_ ," he told her. "Did I not specifically tell you that you were not to take the students on these little expeditions of yours into Hogsmeade during the week, when they needed to be at their studies?"

"Well, yes. But it’s Friday! It’s practically the weekend. I thought it would be okay." 

"How are you doing in your flight lessons?" he asked abruptly.

"I’m…uh…okay, I guess."

"That is doubtful, since, with your absence of today, you will have missed three sessions," he informed her curtly. 

Welkin froze, looking for once like she didn’t know what to say.

"Explain yourself, Welkin," Snape demanded quietly.

"Please don’t be angry with me, Severus. It just really unnerves me to be on that stupid broom. When it gets higher than six feet up, I just panic and feel like I’m going to vomit!" 

"Your flight lessons are important, and you will miss no more of them, whatever your reason might be. I do not wish to be informed of any further diversionary tactics." Snape didn’t give her time to answer this time. He withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his pocket, and held it up.

"What is this, Welkin? I found this in my desk drawer."

"An invitation," Welkin mumbled, casting her eyes to the floor guiltily.

"A what? You are not making yourself clear," Snape insisted. 

"An invitation to the Weasleys' Christmas party," Welkin announced clearly, forcing herself to meet his disapproving gaze.

"And when did it arrive?"

"By Owl, several days ago. Can we please go? It sounds like a lot of fun." She smiled at him hopefully. 

"It appears that we already _are_ going, so why are you bothering to ask me now? I was accosted by the Weasley twins this afternoon, who relayed a message that Molly Weasley was delighted that you had answered in the affirmative. When were you planning on telling me this?"

"Don’t you third degree me!" Welkin changed tactics. She was starting to get angry at his playing _Grand Inquisitor_ with her. "I’m your wife! It’s perfectly natural for me to handle our social calendar!" 

" _Not_ without asking me first," Snape informed her evenly. The fact that he had not yet raised his voice was annoying to Welkin. He wasn’t fighting fair.

"One more thing," Snape told her, advancing on her until he was toe-to-toe with her, and she had to tilt her head up to look at him. "Your Potions class instruction with me will begin Monday. Albus has confirmed that is what he intended, despite what you led me to believe. Why did you lie to me?" 

"You don’t want to know," Welkin said sullenly.

"Yes, I do, and you will answer me… _Now_ ," he added for emphasis, when she was not forthcoming. 

"Because, you’re just so _mean_ to your students! I didn’t want you to treat me like you do them!" 

"I am not mean to them. I am firm, and I give them the discipline that they require," Snape told her. "I see now that you, above all of them, are sorely in need of what I shall impart to you in that area. You will begin your potions instruction with me six a.m. Monday morning, bright and early, before breakfast."

"Six a.m.?! Fuck that! I’m not getting up before dawn so that you can verbally abuse me and ruin my breakfast!" 

"If you do not rise at the proper time, I shall drag you from our bed myself, and you may take your lessons in your nightgown, or nude if need be, but you _shall_ take lessons under me," he assured her. 

"You go fuck yourself! You’re not my mother, and you can’t tell me what to do! I’ll go to Hogsmeade whenever, and with whoever, I want - I don’t have to take any stinking flying lessons if I don’t want to - I’m going to that party, with or without you - and I wouldn’t let you teach me _anything_ if you were the last Potions Master in the Wizarding World!"

Welkin folded her arms and smiled triumphantly at him. "And you can’t do a _thing_ about it," she unwisely added.

"Very well," Snape said, a little too calmly. It made her nervous that he had reacted this placidly to her outburst. It was almost as if he had expected it. "I was hoping to avoid this, but if you choose to act like a child, then I suppose I have no recourse except to treat you like one. I shall have to spank you until you agree to behave yourself." 

"You’ll have to what?" Welkin blinked at him, not sure she heard him correctly.

"I shall have to spank you, until you see the error of your ways," Snape repeated calmly. 

"You’re joking, aren't you? You wouldn’t dare. I’m your wife, and…you said you’d never strike me again!" she reminded him.

"This is discipline, my love, not abuse. I do not wish to do this, but you leave me no choice in the matter, by your stubborn refusal to do what is required of you, as a student, and as my wife. Remove your skirt and knickers, please," he said crisply. 

He walked back to the chair, and sat down again. "Remove your knickers, and come here to me," he commanded again, as if he actually expected her to do as he said, without any sort of protest. 

Welkin laughed at him somewhat derisively. "I’m _not_ taking my panties off, and I’m _not_ letting you spank me. Sit there all night, if you want to. I’m going to bed." Welkin started to walk away, headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom.

Quick as a flash, Snape drew his wand, pointed it at her, and pronounced a particular version of the Banishing Charm. Welkin suddenly found herself standing nude before him. "Mobilicorpus!" He pointed at her again, levitating her body off the floor. He directed his wand towards himself, drawing her to him from across the room, deftly flipped her in midair, and let her fall into place, positioned across his knees. 

"Let me up! Let me up right now, you bastard!" She flailed at him with her fists, as he held her in place. 

Snape intoned a binding spell, and the sash from her bathrobe, which was lying across the foot of their bed, separated itself from the robe, and floated to her, wrapping itself around her wrists to secure her hands together.

The sight of Welkin’s exposed buttocks and the feel of her across his knees was quite arousing, but Snape steeled himself against his persistent need for her, and raised the palm of his hand in the air, holding her in place with his other arm. "Will you admit to your errors, and promise to follow my instructions in these matters?" Snape asked her. "If you will, I shall not discipline you," he promised.

"Fuck you!" Welkin yelled stubbornly. The flat of Snape’s hand whacked her once on the buttocks sharply, and she gritted her teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out at the stinging sensation. 

He paused to allow her to reconsider. "Very well," he said with a sigh, when she remained silent, and began to discipline her in earnest, smacking her rapidly reddening ass over and over until she could no longer keep still, but started to squirm against him in a vain effort to elude his hand. Two minutes…three…four…Welkin couldn’t stand it anymore, it stung so much. She abandoned her stubborn pride, and began to plead for him to stop.

"Please, Severus, don’t! Stop it! Don’t! It hurts! I’ll do anything you say! Please, stop!" She pleaded with him in a continuous litany, as her tears started to flow.

The spanking stopped abruptly. She felt herself lifted into a sitting position on his lap, and she flinched as her sore bottom pressed against him. The dirty bastard was hard, she realized. His cock was erect beneath his trousers. He had actually _enjoyed_ spanking her, and making her beg him to stop. She forced herself to calm down before she said something she would surely regret. She was already sore enough. She didn't need to incite him further by saying something rash.

"Are you ready to admit to your errors?" Snape asked her softly. 

She reluctantly let him pull her against his chest. "Yes, Severus." She felt him stroke her hair. 

"Are you ready to behave like an adult and attend all of your classes? Will you do your best to excel in them?"

He kissed her cheek. "Yes, Severus," she told him, afraid to say anything else.

"And will you discuss things with me, _before_ you do them, so that we may both be involved in the decision making, as equal partners in our marriage?" 

He nuzzled her neck with his lips. "I…ummm…yes, Severus." She was suddenly finding it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.

Snape loosened the sash from around her wrists and let it drop to the floor. To his surprise, her arms automatically went around his neck, and she leaned her head against his chest. "Do you forgive me for having to subject you to this, to obtain your cooperation?" he asked her.

"Yes, Severus," she said, even though she was still upset with him. 

"Are your buttocks sore?" he asked her, finally sounding a bit contrite.

"Yes, they are," she replied quietly. "You spanked me pretty hard. I might have to sleep standing up tonight."

"I can fix that," Snape said gently. He lifted her as he rose to his feet, and set her down, taking her hand, and leading her to the bed. "Lie down on your stomach, and I shall get some salve to soothe you," he told her. 

She obediently positioned herself as he’d instructed. She had nearly drifted off to sleep when Snape returned. Dipping into the pleasantly aromatic balm with his fingers, he extracted a generous amount, and warmed it between his hands, then began to rub it into her reddened butt cheeks in light circular patterns. 

"You have a beautiful posterior, my love," Snape complimented her. "So round, and firm. When I enter you from behind during our lovemaking, I love the feel of it pressed against me when I am deepest inside you." His voice was low, and seductive, as he stroked the balm into her skin. What was he trying to do to her? Heal her, or turn her on? Welkin didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, and closed her eyes.

If Severus had spanked her as sexual foreplay, Welkin would have thought nothing of it. She would even have enjoyed it. But he had done it as a _corrective_ measure. He was displeased with her and with behavior that was so natural and basic to her personality, that it felt like rejection for him to need to correct it. It was clear to her that she no longer pleased him the way that she was, and he wanted her to change. 

"Welkin?" Snape hesitated when he got no reply, and stopped stroking her. "Are you still angry with me?" 

"No, Severus," she answered truthfully. I’m sad, she thought, but did not express it to him. Sad, because he obviously wished her to be something she wasn’t. He wanted her to be something that she could never be. But, she would try her best for him. She would try to be all the things that he wanted, even if it broke her heart.

Something was wrong with her, Severus sensed, and it was because of him, but he did not know what or why. Welkin was obedient, as he had wished her to be. This _was_ how he had wished her to be, wasn’t it? But, something was very wrong about it. She was so subdued. It was as if a flame inside her had been extinguished. It was as if he had accidentally crushed something rare and precious to him. Only, this had been no accident. He had done it deliberately, and now he was already beginning to regret it.

"Welkin, answer me, please. Tell me how you really feel."

_I feel…empty_ , she thought. She opened her eyes and stared at the wall, without really seeing it.

* * *


	22. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus is horrified when he actually succeeds in taming Welkin's lively spirit, and discovers it isn't really what he wants at all.

* * *

"Welkin, please answer me!" Snape implored, starting to get alarmed. What had he done to his beloved Welkin? He had never meant to upset her as badly as he obviously had, with his clumsy attempts to control her naturally effusive personality. It was as if she had gone into emotional hibernation. Snape was horrified at the change in her. 

"I’m sorry. I just don’t feel much like talking right now," Welkin told him. She rolled over to look at him, flinching as she did, since her butt was still sore. "I must drive you crazy sometimes with my talking. I would think that you’d be relieved that I was quiet for a change." 

"I am not relieved at all. Talking to you is always the highlight of my day, and I enjoy it very much. Even just listening to you talk is the greatest of pleasures. There was often too much silence in these rooms before you came into my life," he admitted. "I am an arrogant bastard for trying to force you to my will, and upsetting you as I have. I promise to you that I will never do it again, if you will only be reconciled to me, and be yourself again. I did not realize that my correction would affect you the way that it has - to make such a terrible change in you." 

"You don’t like the change?" Welkin looked confused. "By the way you were acting, I thought that you _wanted_ me to be less spontaneous, and more controlled, like other people." 

"I thought that I did, but I see now, that is not what I want at all. I want my Welkin back," he admitted, somewhat plaintively.

Snape was doing the pleading now, which gave Welkin no end of satisfaction. Mainly because it meant that he really did not want her to change. The dark cloud in Welkin’s mind lifted perceptibly. "You still like me the way that I am, even if I drive you crazy sometimes?" She had to hear him say it again, to reassure her. Welkin didn’t care what other people thought about her, but she certainly did care what Severus thought.

"I _love you_ just the way that you are," Snape corrected. "I would not have you change in any way." The coldness she had seen in his eyes, when he had pushed her from his lap earlier, was gone. Now, there was only love and a hint of desperation emanating from within those dark depths.

"I’m so happy to hear that, my sweet Sevvy. You can’t imagine how much. I love you just the way that you are too, but let’s not be mean to each other anymore. I don't want to fight with you." 

Welkin fell into his arms with a smile. "I’m sorry I told you that I didn’t want you to teach me anything. I was just angry. I didn’t really mean it. I do want to learn how to brew potions, and you’re the best teacher there is," she enthused. "Do I really have to get up so early though?" 

"No. Of course not, my pet. We will work out a better schedule together," Snape agreed, relieved that she seemed to be getting back to normal.

Welkin decided not to mention her flight lessons. She didn’t want to push her luck. She changed the topic to something that she was much more interested in. 

"What about the party at the Burrow? It really does sound like fun, and I already have a killer of a new dress for it." Welkin coaxed him, pushing her renewed advantage with him. 

"If you really have your heart set on attending this annual Weasley Christmas debacle, I shall proudly escort you, my love," Snape told her, falling back into his familiar pattern of indulging her. It felt right. He would not abandon it again, no matter what Dumbledore thought about it. If that meant he was pussy-whipped in his eyes, then so be it. He would not jeopardize his relationship with Welkin for the sake of his masculine pride ever again. There would be many more skirmishes between him and Welkin, he knew. There always would be. It was part of the nature of their relationship and added spice to it. But he would never physically humiliate her again, like he had tonight, no matter how outrageously she behaved. She was his wife, and his love, and not one of his students to discipline or force to his will in such an unseemly manner. 

"Thank you, Severus. It’s going to be so much fun! Just you wait and see! You’ll be glad I talked you into it." The sparkle was back in her green eyes. 

"Will you rub some more salve on my butt?" Welkin requested, flipping back onto her stomach. "It’s still pretty sore, and I like the way your hands feel." 

"I would be delighted," Snape acquiesced, removing his tunic jacket, so that he was now somewhat more casually attired, in his pristine white shirt with modest gathering at the cuffs and neckline. He retrieved the jar of balm from the top of the nightstand.

"So…you think I have a _‘beautiful posterior’?_ " Welkin asked, fishing for more compliments. 

"You have a beautiful everything, my love. But, yes, your posterior is quite lovely and enticing." His hands began the soothing circular motions again, as he distributed the salve as smoothly as he was distributing the compliments.

"I didn’t know you were such an ass man," Welkin told him, closing her eyes to savor the feel of his hands on her skin. 

"Neither did I, until I saw yours," Snape admitted. 

"Tell me something. I’ve always wondered about this. It’s about that first night I arrived, when you undressed me and cleaned me up, and put me in the robe. Before I woke up and you questioned me, did you touch me while I was unconscious? I won’t be angry if you did. We’re married now, after all. It’s just water under the bridge."

"I had to touch you, in the process of undressing and dressing you again," Snape said. "It would have been impossible to put you in the robe otherwise."

"You know what I mean, Severus. I don’t mean did you touch me. I mean did you _touch_ me?" 

There was a long pause. His hands stopped their circular motion, as he decided to answer truthfully. "Yes." He resumed his motions a little more briskly than before. Welkin sensed he was a little embarrassed at his admission to her.

"I figured you did, you horny devil." She laughed softly. "I knew my nipples were erect for a reason, and it wasn’t that cold in there." It wasn’t cold in their bedchamber at all either, but her nipples were erect now too - from the combination of Snape’s hands on her, and her thoughts of what he might have done with her unconscious. 

"You played with my breasts, then. What else did you do? Did you touch my pussy? Did you fingerfuck me? Did you rub your cock on me? I know you didn’t fuck me, because I would have been sore," Welkin said matter-of-factly.

After nearly a year of marriage, Snape was no longer shocked by Welkin’s casual and often vulgar attitude towards sexual banter. She did not consider the terms she used to be offensive in any way. She thought that most people were far too prudish when it came to the subject of sex, and needed to dispense with all of the false propriety, and simply enjoy themselves with complete abandon. 

"I did touch your breasts, and your pussy. I kissed you on the lips. I did not insert myself in any way," Snape insisted to her. 

"You kissed me on the lips?" Welkin was quite surprised. She had pictured many things, but not that. "That’s a very intimate thing for you to have done." 

"You do not think that touching your pussy was intimate?" Snape asked, equally surprised. 

"Not necessarily. It depends on the circumstance. But kissing is _always_ intimate," Welkin told him. "You don’t just kiss _anybody_. At least, I don’t. Why did you kiss me?" 

"I suppose that I just could not help myself. I knew it was wrong - all of it. But I could not stop myself."

He paused, and reconsidered his answer.

"No. That is not exactly true. I could have, but I just did not want to stop myself. You looked so appealing and vulnerable, lying there on the couch after I put the robe on you. I remember that I was starting to secure the sash of your robe, and suddenly realized that, after my interrogation, I would have to Obliviate you and return you to your world. I would no longer have the opportunity to kiss you. I opened the robe, put my hand on your breast, and kissed you." He still sounded a little embarrassed at the admission of what he had done.

"What did I do when you kissed me? Did I respond in any way?" Welkin wondered. The visual image in her head was exciting her both sexually and emotionally. 

"You moaned, and you opened your mouth slightly. I was very surprised, but delighted. I wondered what might have happened if you had awoken at that moment," Snape said a little wistfully. "I doubt that it would have been what I hoped might happen at the time." 

"Maybe it would have," Welkin said gently, wanting to give him his fantasy. "There are worse ways to be awakened than by the kiss of a handsome stranger. It is the stuff of fairy tales, after all, _Sleeping Beauty,_ awakened by the kiss of her prince." The romance of the image appealed to her too. Welkin rolled over onto her back, ignoring the remaining twinges of soreness. "Will you kiss me now, my only love, my handsome _Half-Blood Prince_?"

"Most assuredly," Snape said, lying on the bed next to her. His Welkin was back, he thought happily, as he claimed his reawakened _Beauty_. With any luck, she would never disappear again.

* * *

Welkin was singing to him, her audience of one, as she danced around the room in her robe. Snape sat up in bed, bare-chested, his hands behind his head, watching her with a satisfied smile on his face.

  
_Reunited and it feels so good_  
Reunited 'cause we understood  
There's one perfect fit  
And, sugar, this one is it 

(She turned towards him, pointed at him and swayed her hips from side to side as she finished the chorus.)

_We both are so ex-cit-ed  
'Cause we're reunited, hey, hey*_   


"You are very good at that," Snape told her. "Have you sung professionally? What is this song?"

"God, no. I just sing because I like to. The song is _Reunited_ by Peaches and Herb. _I’m_ Peaches" - she pointed at herself - "and _you’re_ Herb" - she pointed at him. "Next time you have to sing it with me." 

She picked up one of the shopping bags she had dropped on the floor at the door early in the evening. "Let me show you what I got for you when I was shopping." She ran towards the bed and took a flying leap into it, falling against him, the bag partially spilling its contents into his lap.

Snape spotted the liqueur-filled chocolates, and immediately started to un-wrap them. He was very partial to these bite-sized confections, with their delicious payload of flavored liquid centers. Welkin had introduced him to them during the summer when they were at Spinner’s End. 

"Don’t go crazy with those, Severus. Just a few at a time, not half the box like you did the last time. Otherwise, you’ll get fat, and then I guess I’ll just have to divorce you," Welkin warned him. "I can’t have a fat man grunting over me in bed like a rutting hog," she sniffed at him. 

Snape made his selection and offered the box to her. "What the hell," she said. "We’ll _both_ get fat, and I can be your sow and grunt right along with you." She selected one with raspberry liqueur filling. 

"Wha ish tha?" Severus asked, his mouth full of chocolate. He had picked up the book. 

"It’s that book you wanted on Persian spells and incantations. I was going to give it to you at Christmas, but I didn’t want to wait." She watched his face in anticipation as he leafed through it. She liked surprising him with little gifts like this.

He finished chewing and swallowed. "I only mentioned this book one time months ago, and you remembered it all this time? You had this for me all the time when I was being so dreadful to you. I do not deserve your thoughtfulness, or your love," Snape told her. 

"I know it. But I love you anyway," Welkin teased. "If the only people who got love were those who always behaved well, then I guess none of us would ever be loved, don’t you think?" 

Welkin withdrew the last item from the shopping bag with a little flourish. "These are for you too, but I’m going to enjoy them myself, whenever I see you in them." She held up the emerald green silk boxers. "Look! They’re Slytherin green! They can be your lucky drawers that you wear for Quidditch matches!" 

Snape arched his eyebrow. "Those are interesting, but who is going to know that I have them on?" 

"Well…" Welkin pondered a solution. "Maybe whenever Slytherin scores, you can drop your trousers, and do a little happy dance? I’ll wear my green St. Patrick’s Day panties with the clovers and leprechauns on them, and join you."

"We will both be arrested for indecent exposure, and carted off to St. Mungo’s psychiatric ward," Snape told her. 

"Maybe _you_ will be, but not me. Everybody already expects _me_ to do crazy things. They wouldn’t even bat an eyelash." 

"So many gifts for me, and I have nothing for you," Snape said, selecting another chocolate for her. He held it close to her lips and she bit into it, the liqueur drizzling onto her lower lip as she chewed. He popped the other half of the chocolate into his own mouth, leaned over, and gently licked her bottom lip clean.

"I know what you can do for me," Welkin told him. "You can sing a verse of _Reunited_ with me."

"I am not a singer," Snape protested. 

"It doesn’t matter, Severus. Nobody’s going to hear it but us. Please? You sing the first line, and I’ll sing the next, etcetera."

Welkin folded the shopping bag flat, opened the nightstand drawer next to her, and retrieved her wand. She pointed it at the bag, and intoned a Scripting Charm. Six lines of verse magically appeared on the surface of the bag.

"Very impressive." Snape told her. "I really must remember to offer my compliments to Professor Flitwick on his teaching skills."

"He says I have a natural aptitude for Charms, whatever that’s supposed to mean," Welkin said. 

Welkin huddled next to him, her head against his shoulder, with the words in front of them. "You start with the first line, and I’ll follow you. Do you remember the tune I sang earlier?" 

"I believe so, but do not expect much of this effort. I have never sung before," he warned her. If anyone else had requested this of him, he would have thought they were insane to do so. As long as no one else heard him, he would try it, to please his Welkin.

Snape: _Lover, lover, this is solid love_  
Welkin: _And you're exactly what I'm dreaming of_  
Snape: _All through the day_  
Welkin: _And all through the night_  
Snape: _I'll give you all the love I have_  
Welkin: _With all my might, hey, hey*_  


Welkin laughed with delight. "That was great, Sevvy! You can carry a tune, and you’ve got such a sexy, low singing voice! If I had panties on right now, I’d be creaming them."

"Thank you, _Peaches_. But I believe you said that my name is _Herb_ ," Snape told her seriously. "As to the creaming of your nonexistent knickers, I believe that I should check the veracity of that statement. I am fairly certain that creaming can occur, with or without, the garment in question."

Welkin squealed, and put up a mock struggle, as he tried to slide his hand beneath her robe.

"Keep your filthy paws off my nonexistent silk panties, you pervert!" Welkin laughed, rolling off the bed onto the floor during their struggles, right onto her still somewhat sore ass. " _Ow!_ " 

Snape slid off the bed after her, coming to rest beside her, flat on his back, his penis waving stiffly in the air, begging for her attentions. 

" _Peaches_ , I believe that my cock would like to be _‘reunited’_ with your pussy," Snape informed her, wrapping his hand around it. 

"I think that can be arranged _‘Herb’_ ," Welkin said coyly, climbing on top of him, and lowering herself onto his erection. "Let me teach you another song. It’s called _Relax (Don’t Do It)_ by Frankie Goes To Hollywood." 

Welkin began to bob up and down as she sang.

_Oh oh  
Wee-ell-Now!_

_Relax don't do it_  
When you want to go to it  
Relax don't do it  
When you want to come  
Relax don't do it  
When you want to come  
When you want to come*… 

Snape groaned loudly, his cock encased in and squeezed tightly by Welkin’s pussy. Welkin’s breathy delivery of the song, and the sight of her being impaled over and over by his pole, as her breasts bounced and jiggled above him, pretty much assured that he would not be able to follow the admonishment of these new lyrics for long. In fact, he sincerely doubted that he was going to make it to the end of the song. He grasped her firmly by the hips as she rode him, and groaned louder.

"Hold on tight, _Herb_ ," Welkin told him, quickening her pace. "The next verse is a doozy!"

* * *

Author's Notes: *Song attributions - _Reunited_ by Peaches and Herb - written by Dino Fekaris, J. Frederick - Universal Music Publishing Group; _Relax (Don't Do It)_ by Frankie Goes to Hollywood - written by Michael Holbrook Penniman and Nicholas Eede - Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing LLC., Sony/ATV Music Publishing, LLC, EMI Music Publishing

* * *


	23. Hermione's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's lies to Welkin come back to bite him in the butt. Welkin thinks he's done the one thing she considers to be unforgiveable, and refuses to believe his denials.

* * *

Hermione Granger stared at the huge pile of books before her on the mahogany table and sighed. Ordinarily, she took nothing but pleasure in spending long hours in the library doing research, but something was distracting her these days. Thoughts of someone specific were distracting her from her studies, and it wasn’t Ron Weasley she was obsessed with.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Hermione asked herself with frustration. Her crush on him had begun at the Yule Ball last year when she saw him arrive with his partner, looking so different, and somehow so much more attractive and worldly than he usually appeared to her. 

When he and his partner had danced, the romance of it all had mesmerized her. The way their bodies blended together on the dance floor had almost made her swoon as she watched them, and Hermione had felt a pang of envy, suddenly wondering what it would be like if she was his dance partner, instead of Welkin.

Unknown to any but Ginny Weasley, who had finally guessed her embarrassing secret, the unlikely object of Hermione’s mad teenage crush was none other than the routinely reviled Hogwarts Potions Master, Severus Snape.

"He’s a married man!" Hermione berated herself, aloud this time. "Stop thinking about him like that!"

She opened another of the thick, dark leather-bound texts and tried to read, but her mind kept drifting back to today’s Potions class, when he had stood so close behind her, observing her brewing technique on the potion they had been assigned as homework at the end of the previous class session.

She had imagined that Professor Snape might be able to hear her heart pounding loudly, excited as she was at how near he was to her, and she had blushed, ducking her head so that he would not see, as she felt her cheeks flush. To both her relief, and her disappointment, he had not noticed, and had finally moved away from her without comment on her work, as he usually did. Ron Weasley had nearly ruined the moment by asking loudly why she was so red, and was she coming down with something?

Was she imagining it, Hermione asked herself now, or had Professor Snape been unusually attentive to her work in class lately. He seemed always to be hovering about her. She had never noticed that before. Could it be possible that he felt something for her as well? He was an intelligent man, and she was an intelligent young woman. Surely he would appreciate that about her, and perhaps had even noticed and appreciated that she was taking better care of her personal appearance of late, taming her rebellious locks of long hair, and wearing a hint of lip gloss and mascara.

Hermione liked Welkin well enough, she really did, but the woman was _obviously_ no match for Professor Snape intellectually she thought; and a man like him needed intellectual stimulation above anything else. She was _certain_ of that. Hermione could provide that for him, and he could teach her…other things, she thought, blushing again. Besides, he and Welkin argued and fought all the time. How could their love possibly be real and stable if they never seemed to be in agreement about anything? Welkin was much too flippant about most things, from what Hermione had observed about her. She was always joking and teasing with everyone, and seemed more interested in having a good time than in the pursuit of her studies. That must be very annoying to a serious man like Professor Snape. What Professor Snape really needed was someone he could have a meeting of the minds with, she told herself. Someone serious and focused, just like he was. Someone like Hermione herself was. What difference did it make that there was a huge age gap between them? Their love and intellectual regard for one another could surmount anything.

Hermione sat with the book open, ignoring it - her chin propped in her hand - as she continued to daydream about what her life would be like, if she was Mrs. Hermione Snape.

* * *

Snape stood at the desk for several minutes, tapping one foot quietly with annoyance, as he waited for the Hogwarts librarian to appear. The blasted woman was everywhere ordinarily, but when she was truly needed, she was nowhere to be found.

Severus had decided to surprise Welkin by acquiring a copy of a book that he had suggested to her to supplement the Potions textbook used in his class. It had been one of his favorites when he was a student, and he thought that Welkin might benefit greatly from reading it.

Impatient to be on his way to meet Welkin for lunch, he abandoned his wait, and decided to find the book on his own. He would leave Madam Pince a note to let her know that he had borrowed it.

The task of locating the proper aisle proved to be more difficult than he anticipated, due to the odd cataloguing system that Irma Pince employed. Snape frowned to himself as he wandered the aisles without success, until suddenly he spotted Hermione Granger seated at a table in one of the study areas. Quickly striding up to her and halting by her side, he waited for her to look up and notice him, but the girl seemed to be woolgathering, staring off into space with an odd expression on her face.

"Miss Granger," he said, and she at last looked up at him with a start. Her face immediately flushed a bright red. How odd, Snape thought. Miss Granger seemed to be suffering from some strange malady that had made her prone to severe facial flushing quite often in recent months. Perhaps he should suggest she visit the Hogwarts nurse for an examination.

"Miss Granger," he repeated, now that he had her attention. "I require your assistance to locate a book." He told her the title.

"Yes…um…I know just where…yes, sir…I think I…um… know where it would be," she stammered. "I know just where that is…I think I…that is..."

"There is no need to keep repeating yourself, Miss Granger," Snape told her curtly. "My auditory system is excellent, I assure you. I heard you quite well the first time."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. Of course, Professor Snape." Hermione shakily rose from her seat and led the way, as he followed her towards the back of the room, to the very last aisle.

* * *

Welkin looked at the scrap of parchment in her hand with the book title written on it: _Creative Brewing and Bottling Techniques in Potions Development From the 12th Through the 18th Centuries_ , by Herkimer Bosch. Boy! Wasn’t _that_ a mouthful!? She hadn’t been able to find the librarian, so she had decided to search for herself. Where was everybody today? The stacks appeared almost deserted in this section. Hopefully she could find somebody to point her in the right direction. If she couldn’t find it in a reasonable amount of time, she’d give up and meet Severus for lunch, and come back later when help was available. Humming cheerfully to herself, she started her swift perusal of the aisles.

* * *

"Are you certain that the book is in this section?" Snape asked Hermione impatiently, as she fumbled fruitlessly among the titles.

"Oh, yes! I’m almost positive it is," she answered. Hermione was terribly aware of how closely he was standing behind her, given the narrowness of the aisle. She imagined herself leaning back against Snape, and him becoming suddenly overcome with the urge to encircle her with his arms, turn her slowly, and press his lips tenderly to hers.

He _had_ to feel something for her. They were intellectual soul mates, and were meant to be together, providing the mentally stimulating companionship to each other that would result in their lofty achievement in their respective magical fields of endeavor. She just needed to do something to make him see that recent revelation as clearly as she did. 

Do it! Do it now! Her churning emotions and hormones urged her to action. Let him know how you feel about him, and he’ll admit what he truly feels about you. She spotted the particular book title she was looking for, and slowly, dreamily lifted it from the shelf. With book in hand, she whirled suddenly, looked directly into those deep black eyes, and with two swift movements, let the book drop to the floor, and flung her arms around Professor Snape’s neck.

"Miss Granger! What do you think that you are doing?!" 

"Oh, Professor Snape! I’m _in love_ with you!" 

Before he could react, Hermione pressed her lips to his, clinging to him like a cockle-burr. Startled, he reached up and placed his hands against the sides of her slender torso to push her away. Naturally, it was at that inopportune moment that Welkin finally found the aisle she was looking for.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?!" Welkin demanded. 

Their heads turned towards her, Hermione’s face looking flushed with teenage desire, and Snape looking like the straying snake of a husband that he was, who’d just been caught in the act.

"I…I…we…" Hermione stuttered. 

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Welkin ordered. "I can see perfectly _well_ what you’re doing! Please, don’t let me interrupt your sordid little...little...student/teacher conference! I was just leaving... _for good!_ You can _have_ the lying, cheating, unfaithful bastard!"

Welkin whirled and disappeared, as Snape shouted after her, belatedly extricating himself from Hermione’s love-struck death grip on him.

"Welkin! Come back! Please! She just suddenly flung herself at me! You must believe me! Welkin!" Severus shouted after her.

Snape turned to Hermione, who was standing there staring wide-eyed at him. His face was livid, etched with anger. "You _wretched_ girl! See what you’ve done with your infantile foolishness!?" He abruptly abandoned her to chase after Welkin.

What had she done? Hermione stood looking after him for a moment, then slowly sank to the floor and began to cry.

* * *

"I never want to see him again. I hate him!" Welkin was talking to herself as she raced down the hallways, on her way to their quarters. She should have hexed them both! Unfortunately, she didn't know any hexes yet. 

This was not like the Huldra Helliwell incident, where Severus was an unwilling object of seduction. It was obvious to Welkin that he had been _more_ than willing, and had to be the seducer in this case, since he was a lot older than Hermione. There was only one thing in the world that would ever have made Welkin think of truly leaving Severus, and he had just done it, the son of a bitch! Or was just _about_ to do it, if he hadn’t already. Obviously, they weren’t expecting her to happen on their little trysting place. 

"I’m taking Sully, and I’m going back to where I belong! Far away from that sneaking, lying, unfaithful bastard! What did I ever see in him? How could I be so stupid? He’s probably been fucking that deceitful little bitch the whole time we’ve been married!" The students she was passing in the hallways looked startled as Mrs. Snape ran past them, ranting to herself.

After she arrived at their quarters, Welkin also startled the nanny who she and Snape had selected for Sully, by dismissing her early, and telling her that her services would no longer be needed. She gave her a generous bonus, and quickly sent her on her way. She could pack a bag later, with items she and Sully would need in their temporary new quarters in the North Tower, until she could arrange to leave Hogwarts for good. Right now, she just wanted to leave as quickly as she could. Welkin didn't want to be here if Severus came looking for her. 

She snatched Sully from his cradle, and hurried out the door with him, ducking into an alcove behind some drapery, just as she saw Severus rounding a corner with his head down. When he had passed, obviously headed towards their chambers, she hurried on her way to see Albus Dumbledore. Poor Sully, Welkin thought sadly, as he began to whimper. It’s not going to be a very good first Christmas for you.

* * *

"Come in, Severus," Dumbledore told him, just as Snape raised his hand to knock on the headmaster’s door. "I've been expecting you. I know why you’re here," he told Snape as he entered, looking worried and strained. "Welkin has already been here, and I am reluctantly allowing her to resume her room in the North Tower, although she adamantly refuses to tell me what the problem is between you two now. She has only indicated to me that you have done something quite unforgivable in her eyes."

"The North Tower?" Snape said. "Yes, of course! I should have guessed!" He exited the office as quickly as he had entered, leaving Albus still very much in the dark about what could have occurred to cause such a massive rift in Severus’s relationship with Welkin.

* * *

"Welkin, please open the door," Snape pleaded, after discovering that his beloved wife had been practicing her skills with locking charms, and had secured the door quite expertly against him. "I swear to you that it was not as it might have appeared. Miss Granger caught me quite unawares, and flung herself at me. I have not dishonored our marriage vows. I swear to you, I have not!"

"Go away!" Welkin shouted through the door. She leaned against it, her face contorted by anger, and the effort not to cry. "You’ve done nothing but lie to me the whole time we’ve been married. Do you really think I’d believe you now? I _saw_ you with her! Go away or I’ll call the prefects and have you removed. Do you really want everyone at Hogwarts knowing about your dirty little affair with a student? I doubt you’d have a job for very long if it became common knowledge. Go the fuck away!"

"Welkin, my love…please! If you would but open the door, we can talk about this." 

"Go away! You've ruined everything! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Welkin dissolved into bitter tears as Snape continued to plead with her to let him in.

* * *


	24. Prelude to a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin are separated and miserable. Severus tries frantically to get Welkin to believe him about what she saw. Dumbledore once again steps in with a scheme to try to reunite the two.

* * *

For the next few days, the same sad scenario repeated itself. Severus would position himself outside the door to Welkin’s quarters in the North Tower, and stay there for hours, begging and pleading with her to listen to reason and open the door. He appealed to her logic, and her sense of justice and fair play. He appealed to her on the basis of their marriage vows, for better or for worse. Most often, he appealed to her based on their love for each other, assuring her over and over that he had not been unfaithful to her, but Welkin stubbornly refused to open the door, repeating her litany that he had lied to her once too often for her to believe him now.

Frustrated and distraught, Snape tried to magically force his way into her room, without success. Welkin had used more advanced charms to secure the doors and walls too well for that. He finally managed to get a foot in the door when there was a delivery of items needed for Sullivan, but with a fierce glare, Welkin backed him out at wand-point and slammed the door again.

His Potions classes had been taught by a substitute for the past two days, causing both elation and puzzlement among many of Snape’s students. Snape was never ill, and he had never missed a class in collective memory. What could be keeping him away? Also, Welkin had not been seen for two days. The rumor mill began again, as it had so often where they were concerned.

Late in the evening, when he was finally forced to abandon his vigil outside Welkin’s door, Snape dejectedly returned to their quarters in the dungeons, and spent the rest of the evening drinking and staring at Welkin’s picture. It was a candid shot of her, which he had purchased from Colin Creevy before he and Welkin were married.

In the quiet of their bedchamber, made lonely and depressing again by Welkin’s absence, Severus studied Welkin’s moving image, as she pointed at the Whomping Willow tree in the distance and turned towards the camera with her bright smile, her dark coppery-auburn hair blowing in the breeze, and her smile finally fading away, leaving her with a puzzled, more solemn expression, her rosebud mouth looking slightly pouty and kissable to him.

When he could no longer stand the sweet torture of looking at Welkin’s picture, he would put it away and try to sleep, with varying levels of success. Severus had not cried since Lily had died, but he did so now, not bothering any longer to fight or control the urge. He was in utter misery. He might as well let himself wallow in it. Welkin had left him, and he could not win her back. He feared that he would be without her, alone again, for _'forever and always'_. His worst nightmare was coming true.

High in the North Tower, Welkin was faring no better than Snape. When she wasn’t feeding or caring for Sully, she was lying on her bed crying, or trying to distract herself so that she would not replay in her mind the awful scene she had happened upon in the library. Why did he have to ruin everything? She loved him more than anything or anyone. Why hadn’t that been enough for him? He had sworn to her that he loved her, and that had been a lie too, like everything else.

The thought of leaving this world and never seeing him again tormented her nearly every agonizing minute of the day. How could she make herself go? Yet, she had to. He had wounded her heart and her pride too deeply to relent to him this time. His love for her was a lie, if he could treat her feelings for him with such callous disregard. 

At times, she doubted the evidence of infidelity that her own eyes had shown her. What if Severus really _was_ telling her the truth this time? What if Hermione _had_ thrown herself at him, and he had wanted no part of her? But no – that couldn’t be – could it? Hermione was much too reserved to have made such an aggressive play for her teacher, and she was much younger than Severus, and without guile. Severus _must_ have been the aggressor. But, what if she was wrong, and she really had accused Severus unjustly?

The question would nag Welkin until she fell into a fitful sleep, often awakened by terrible, vivid dreams of Voldemort where she was being manhandled by the monster, as Severus sat in the same room, impassively watching – not trying to help her – merely smirking at her as the Dark Lord flung her onto a hard, stone slab and climbed atop her, leering down at her grotesquely, as he prepared to violate her. _"Mor-gan-a!"_ Voldemort would hiss her middle name into her ear, as she felt his deathly cold member thrust into her, his claw-like hands around her throat, squeezing so hard that she could barely breathe.

It was at precisely this point each time that Welkin would awaken in a panic, drenched with sweat, her heart racing. She had dreamed the same thing four times in the past two nights. It was disturbing and horrifying to her, but Severus was not there to comfort her, as he used to do when one of her dreams disturbed her.

Despite her repeated assertions to herself, and to Severus, that she hated and loathed him, Welkin knew that was a damnable lie. She still loved him, God help her, no matter what he had done. She would always love him, even if she had every reason not to anymore.

"Severus!" Welkin sobbed, after the last time she awoke from the nightmare, and had finally managed to calm herself. "If only it didn’t _matter_ to me so much what you did with Hermione. I still love you so much! I don't want to leave you!"

* * *

Looking hollow-eyed from lack of sleep, Snape sat in his usual seat at the head table in the Great Hall, picking at the food on his plate, moving it around randomly as he tried to concentrate on something besides Welkin. Welkin’s seat to his left, between him and Dumbledore, remained as empty as his heart.

Minerva, seated to Snape’s right, suddenly touched his arm. "Severus, Welkin is here," she said gently.

Snape looked up and saw her walking down the center aisle, Sullivan in her arms, and his carry bag of baby essentials slung over her left shoulder. His heart leapt in his chest. Had she finally relented? But no, she had not. His hopes were dashed as Welkin walked past the Gryffindor table, pointedly ignoring Hermione, and moved to the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy was seated. Snape saw her mouth something to Draco. Goyle, one of Draco’s dim-witted companions, who was seated next to Draco, immediately rose to his feet and moved over one space, allowing Welkin to seat herself there with Sullivan.

Snape’s heart plunged back into the dungeon of his despair. He wanted so much to go to her, but could not chance her rejection of him in front of all the students and faculty. Perhaps if he approached her after the meal, on pretense of visitation with his child? Yes, he thought – that might work. While he was visiting with Sullivan, perhaps Welkin would allow him to talk to her as well. It was well worth the effort to try. He fed himself a few forkfuls of the food on his plate, feeling a bit more hopeful again.

* * *

Hermione stole a look at Welkin, seated at the Slytherin table next to Draco. She suddenly had no appetite for the food on her plate. As embarrassed and mortified as she was, she had been prepared to apologize profusely to Professor Snape for her behavior, and to Welkin, if she would let her. She had gone repeatedly to Snape’s office to do so in the last two days, but he had not been in.

To see Professor Snape and Welkin seated apart, both looking so miserable, intensified Hermione’s feelings of guilt. She had practically assaulted the man with no provocation or encouragement from him at all. Whatever possessed her to do such an impulsive and morally questionable thing? The only good thing that had come of it was that, based on his reactions, Hermione was now certain that Snape’s feelings for Welkin were genuine, and Hermione’s own infatuation with him had cooled considerably in the past two days filled with self-recrimination.

Even if Hermione did not understand Professor Snape’s relationship with Welkin, it had obviously worked for them; at least, it had up until the moment that Hermione had forced herself into it by kissing Professor Snape, and Welkin had seen it.

There was still one other thing that Hermione didn’t understand. If Hermione could see that Snape truly loved Welkin, why couldn’t Welkin?

Hermione pushed the food around on her plate, feeling very much like the _'wretched girl'_ that Snape had called her.

Hermione felt eyes on her, and looked to her side to discover Ron Weasley staring at her.

"Uhh...your hair looks very nice today, Hermione," Ron hesitantly told her, trying to sound nonchalant about it. He looked down at his food again.

"Really? You think so? Why…thank you, Ron," Hermione replied. Wonder of wonders – a compliment from Ron Weasley. Perhaps miracles really did happen. She smiled a little, and stole another glance at him, catching him looking at her again. They both looked away shyly.

* * *

When the meal was over, and Snape saw Welkin get up to leave, he hurried to the entrance of the Great Hall and waited for her just outside the door. As she exited and saw him, she tried to rush past him, but he reached out to touch her arm, halting her.

"Welkin, I would like visitation with our child, please. Surely, you will not deny me that, even if you will not speak with me."

Welkin studied him, noting the haggard look to his face. He looks really terrible, she thought. She did not take any personal satisfaction in the fact that he did.

"Well…I guess I…don’t see any harm in that. You _are_ his father, after all." She handed over Sully to him, and removed the diaper bag from her shoulder, holding it out to him. "There is breast milk in a bottle inside. You’ll have to warm it a little. Not too much. Please try to have him back to me by ten o'clock. Don't bother coming with him yourself. Send him with one of the prefects." Welkin didn't want another scene with Severus trying to force his way into her room again.

"You are not staying to monitor our visit?" Snape asked, sounding disappointed. 

"I don’t see the point of that. It’s not like you’re going to run off with him." She thought about it. "You _aren’t_ going to run off with him, are you?" she asked a little sharply.

"Of course not!" Snape protested, hurt at her implied suggestion that he might. 

"Okay, then. Just one more thing. I don’t want you having him around your little girlfriend. Do me _that_ courtesy, at least."

"Welkin, she is my student and nothing more than that. What you saw was her venting her adolescent hormones on me without my consent. _Totally_ without my consent," he added with emphasis.

"Yeah, well…it looked pretty _consensual_ to me," Welkin replied. She forced herself to walk away, biting her lip as she did, and blinking to keep the new tears from falling.

Snape felt his heart lurch as he watched her walk away from him. When she was gone, he looked down at Sullivan. Sully looked up at him and smiled.

* * *

Dumbledore gazed at the intensely strange, but fascinating sight of Severus Snape bottle-feeding his son, as he considered what sage advice to give to the younger wizard.

"Without information as to what has caused this separation, I’m not sure that I can be of much help," he finally said. "My advice to you, however, is that you heal this rift as quickly as possible. The longer that it remains, the more damage there will be, in my opinion."

"But, how can I do that, if she will not talk with me?" 

Albus pondered the problem, as Snape lifted Sullivan against his shoulder and began to rub his back, as he had seen Welkin do. He was not exactly sure why this was necessary, but it apparently was, and he followed Welkin’s lead in such matters.

"I might be able to help you after all, Severus. Or at least put you into a setting where Welkin might be more susceptible to discussing things with you. The Weasley Christmas party is the perfect occasion. I have an invitation as well, and I will convince Welkin to change her mind about not attending. In a social setting, she will be less likely to want to create a scene, and may be more approachable. She _does_ like a good party, and if need be, I will keep her well supplied with the spiked beverage that is always available at these events for the adults in attendance."

"You are going to get her inebriated?" Snape queried, raising both eyebrows. 

"Only if absolutely necessary, my dear boy." Dumbledore smiled at him. "If your _‘natural charm’_ does not convince her, then we shall get her a little bit plastered," Albus said.

"I am not sure that this sounds like a wise course of action," Snape said hesitantly. 

"Perhaps your shattered romance simply needs a little liquid lubrication to help you repair it. I strongly advise you to be at that party, Severus," Dumbledore instructed. "I am setting up the situation for you, but you must woo Welkin yourself. Do not ignore this opportunity. There may not be another," he warned.

Dumbledore watched Severus closely, seeing that he was considering it. Perhaps he just needed a little something to push him over the edge.

"Of course, if you _don’t_ attend, I’m sure there will be plenty of handsome wizards there who will be more than happy to dance with Welkin, and keep her properly entertained. At least she will get a pleasant evening out of it."

Snape suddenly pictured Welkin in the _'killer of a dress'_ that she had purchased for the event, her body on display for every would-be _Lothario_ within one hundred miles of the Burrow, and hastily made up his mind. "I shall most _certainly_ attend!"

* * *


	25. Have Yourself a Very Weasley Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weasleys and Dumbledore try to help Severus win Welkin over at the party. The attendance of both Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy complicates their plan.

* * *

"Come in, come in!" Molly Weasley greeted them at the door. "So happy that you could make it, Professor Dumbledore, and you as well, Welkin." She nodded her head at Welkin, smiling broadly at her.

"Yes, please come in and make yourself at home," Arthur Weasley added, sounding very much in the Christmas spirit already. "Severus is already here," he announced jubilantly to Welkin. Molly jabbed her elbow into his side, grimacing. " _Ow!_ Why did you do that, Molly?"

"What a lovely dress, Welkin." Molly changed the subject as she took Welkin’s wrap.

"Thank you," Welkin said, smiling politely as Albus led her off towards the banquet tables.

"Or half a dress," Molly said with a giggle to Arthur, referring to how much cleavage was in view when Welkin’s wrap was removed. "That dress will certainly motivate Severus, I should think, and make our task that much easier."

"That’s a very healthy looking woman," Arthur agreed. "Almost as healthy looking as you were when I first met you, Molly. I couldn’t keep my hands off you. I still can’t." Arthur squeezed his wife’s bum and kissed her cheek, making her giggle again. "No wonder Severus arrived so early," he added. "I wouldn’t let _my_ wife run around unattended looking like that. Some other wizard might try to stake a claim on her."

* * *

Minerva was caring for Sully in Welkin’s absence from Hogwarts, as usual, and had announced that she would keep him until tomorrow, since Welkin would be returning to Hogwarts so late.

"Best to let the child sleep instead of rousting him to move him," Minerva had reasoned. She would use a spell to replenish the bottled breast milk Welkin had left with her, as it was needed, she told her. Welkin hadn’t caught the conspiratorial look that Minerva gave Albus, nor the wink that Albus gave back to her.

Welkin really hadn’t felt like coming to this party at all, since her separation from Severus, and was going to send her regrets to the Weasleys, but Albus had insisted that he didn’t want to attend alone. She had only agreed to come with Albus for his sake, she told herself, and certainly _not_ because she thought that Severus might be here tonight and she might have the opportunity to see him. 

Albus escorted her inside to the large downstairs interior space. She scanned the room expectantly, but didn't see Severus, even though Arthur had said that he was definitely here. She certainly _wasn't_ looking for him because she missed him, she told herself. She merely wanted to know exactly what corner of the room to avoid this evening.

Dozens of other guests were helping themselves from tables laden with a prodigious amount of holiday-themed food and confections. Spaced at intervals along the tables were four large sparkling bowls, two filled to the brim with punch and eggnog, and two that looked like neither; one glowed an eerie green color, and the other glowed red. Both were smoking rather alarmingly, Welkin thought.

Welkin took another look around the room, and saw a few people and some students from Hogwarts who she knew, but didn’t feel like approaching any of them. The seasonal holiday music that was playing only served to depress her, by reminding her that last year she had been with Severus at Spinner's End for an idyllic holiday. Although normally it was one of her favorites, she hated the song that was playing now. How could she possibly have a _'merry little Christmas'_ when she and Severus were apart?

"I thought you said that Severus wouldn’t be here?" Welkin whispered to Albus. 

"Did I, my dear? I thought that he wouldn’t be. He must have changed his mind at the last minute," Albus responded innocently.

"Welkin!" George and Fred Weasley shouted as they bounded down the stairs that led to the upper levels of rooms, and ran up to her and Albus. The young men always reminded Welkin of the Tarleton twins from _Gone With the Wind_. She was quite fond of them, and admired their energetic sense of fun. In turn, the twins liked Welkin for her renegade spirit. She drank, cursed, flirted, and fought her way into their regard, and they adored her, despite the unfortunate fact that she had succumbed to the dubious charms of Professor Snape.

"We have something for… _whoa!_ " Fred stopped short, staring at Welkin’s snowy mountains _'Christmas display'_ in the low-cut red dress.

George punched him to distract Fred from gaping at Welkin's breasts, and to bring his mind back to the task at hand. "What he means is, we have something for you," he finished. "Can we borrow Welkin, Professor Dumbledore?" They each took one of her hands and led her off to a private corner, as if Albus had given his approval, though he hadn’t spoken a word. The knee-length full skirt of her dress made swishing sounds as she walked.

"Don’t tell our mum." George put a finger to his lips, as Fred waved his wand at the potted poinsettias in the planter, removing the concealing charm. Stashed among the flowers was a bottle of Jagermeister, and three shotglasses.

Welkin couldn’t help but grin. "You boys are crazy," she announced, with a hint of admiration in her voice. "And those are the ugliest damn Christmas sweaters I’ve ever seen," she added, indicating the garish designs they each wore, courtesy of their mother Molly.

"Thank you," Fred responded. "Horrendously ugly Christmas jumpers are a time-honored Weasley family tradition."

George poured them each a shot and passed them around, checking to see if anyone was looking before he did.

"A Christmas toast," Fred offered, as they raised their glasses. "To love and happiness - wherever you find it - sometimes hard to find, sometimes easy to find, and sometimes you only have to _look over your shoulder_." They downed their shots, and Welkin laughed at the odd toast.

"Our job here is done, milady," Fred announced, bowing from the waist to her. The twins suddenly swept off again without explanation, taking the bottle and glasses with them.

"Welkin?" 

She knew who it was, even before she turned around. Only one person in this world had a voice like his. She realized the point of the toast now. Only look over your shoulder, indeed! This evening really _was_ going to be a debacle, if the Weasley twins were trying to play Cupid for her and Severus. Everything the boys touched seemed to eventually explode, and she and Severus certainly didn’t need any help with that. Their explosions had come at regular intervals during the past year, without anyone else's help at all.

Welkin turned and looked up at Snape, and her heart skipped a beat. "Good evening, Severus," she responded, trying her best to sound blasé.

"You are looking quite beautiful tonight," he told her, obviously trying to curry her favor. 

But a bit chilly, he added the disapproving thought to himself, wishing he could cover her with one of those atrocious looking Christmas jumpers that the Weasley twins were wearing. His Welkin was already garnering far too much attention from the males at this gathering, some of whom were casting their eyes covetously in her direction, behaving as if they had never seen breasts before.

"Thank you. You’re looking very…fit, as well," Welkin responded politely. She had caught herself. She had almost said handsome. Fit could simply be polite conversation, but handsome might have had a different connotation to Severus. She did not want to give him the impression that she was ready to relent to him, simply because she could not stand being apart from him.

Severus edged closer to her, like a hunter stalking an elusive and skittish deer. He did not want to give her reason to bolt from his presence by proceeding too abruptly, but he wanted to be within striking distance if he perceived an opportunity.

Welkin raised her left hand, and tucked her hair back behind her ear in an unconscious preening gesture, as she cast her eyes down from his. She didn't dare look him in the eyes too long. It made her want to forget what he had done, and fall into his arms.

Snape saw that her engagement ring and wedding band were still in place on Welkin's hand, where they belonged. She was also wearing the necklace he had gifted her with at breakfast after the night of their ‘anniversary’ celebration in the North Tower. Dangling from the chain around her neck, and nestled between her breasts, was the emerald and diamond design - two snakes, each forming an exaggerated S curve, facing each other and touching so that the upper portion of their bodies formed a heart shape, their tails curving upward from the bottom point.

The fact that she was wearing both her rings, and the necklace, encouraged him, and Severus pressed on stalwartly.

"Would you care to join me for some refreshments?" he asked politely, instead of what he was really thinking. If he had said what he really wanted her to join him for, she might have slapped him, or fled the room in anger. For once, he was glad that they were in a room full of people. If they were alone together, he may have simply grabbed her and kissed her, which might have been a mistake. Slowly, Severus, he cautioned himself. Do not rush this. 

"I _am_ a bit hungry. I suppose there’s no reason why I shouldn’t." 

Snape led her to one of the tables, and handed her a plate, managing to lightly touch her hand as he did, causing a sudden intense rush of pleasurable sensation to shoot through them both. Ye gods! How he wanted to take her...here...now...atop this table! 

Severus nearly forgot his resolve to go slowly, and Welkin almost dropped her plate. She flashed on the unbidden vision of him atop her on the banquet table, his hands and lips everywhere on her, as the festive holiday platters of food were crushed by their rolling bodies, and fell to the floor and shattered, to the astonishment of decorous onlookers. She forced the salacious images away from her mind, and focused on the food instead.

Welkin was trying to decide what she wanted when she heard a trio of familiar voices and looked up to see Hermione Granger, dressed in a lovely pale blue party dress, descending the stairs with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

She thrust the empty plate back into Snape’s hands. "I’m suddenly not very hungry anymore." She walked off quickly, leaving him alone at the table.

Snape looked up to see what had disturbed Welkin, when everything was going so well. When he saw Hermione, he groaned. That girl had _incredibly_ bad timing, he thought angrily.

* * *

Time to proceed to the alternate plan, Albus thought, when Welkin seemed disinclined to leave his side for the rest of the evening.

"Would you like a drink? Some punch, perhaps?" Albus asked her. "I think I’m going to have one."

"Yes, I would. Which one of those bowls is spiked? I think I need to get a little plastered tonight," she said bluntly.

"The red and the green ones," he replied. "I’ll be right back, my dear." 

Good, Albus thought. So much the better, if he didn’t have to try to secretly slip alcohol into another drink. He dipped the ladles into the smoking concoctions, and poured a liberal amount into two tall glasses, ignoring the dainty goblets set out for the purpose. He spotted Severus seated morosely in a chair against one wall, staring fixedly at Welkin, and caught his eye, raising the glasses so that he could see them, and winking at him. Then he returned to Welkin, who seemed lost in thought, her eyes downcast.

"Red for you, to match your lovely dress, and green for me, to match the envy of every other wizard here tonight, that you are my lovely partner," Albus said gallantly.

Welkin took the drink. "You are so full of bullshit." But she finally smiled again. "Bottoms up," she toasted, clinking glasses with him, and promptly guzzled down a third of the glass in one long drink.

* * *

Half an hour later: 

"I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Nargle before, but they sound just fascinating," Welkin told Xenophilius Lovegood, taking a drink from her second glass of the red concoction. She smiled at him, encouraging him to continue.

As Lovegood animatedly continued his narration of the favored haunts of the elusive Nargle, Welkin sipped her drink and occasionally glanced over towards Severus, who was apparently intent on guarding that particular section of the room, since he hadn’t moved even once from his chair, or stopping staring at her since she started drinking.

* * *

What was that Lovegood fellow talking to Welkin about all this time? Snape wondered with annoyance. She seemed absolutely fascinated by the man’s undoubtedly deluded ramblings.

"Professor Snape?" He looked up into the eyes of a very serious Hermione Granger. She looked as if she had just stepped into a dragon’s den, and had belatedly remembered that she had left her wand at home.

"Miss Granger. What is it now? Have you come over to gloat about how completely you have ruined my life?"

"Oh, no! Professor…I just…I came over to apologize! I am so sorry about what I did. I should never have done such a thing. I am so embarrassed and I just hope that you and your wife…Welkin…can forgive me. I promise you that I am in full control of my senses again, and you don’t have to worry that anything like that will ever happen again."

"As the Muggles are fond of saying, Miss Granger, _'a fat lot of good that does me now'_ ," Snape told her somewhat bitterly. "But do not concern yourself that either Gryffindor or you will suffer. That _is_ your real concern, is it not? I cannot easily deduct points, or serve you with detention, unless I reveal details of the incident, and that I will not do. I will not subject Welkin to more gossip than has already been making the rounds."

"Of course not, Professor! I hadn’t even thought of that. Really, I hadn't…" she trailed off, as he resumed his fixed staring at Welkin. She waited a minute, and when he did not speak again, she reluctantly walked away.

* * *

Welkin saw Hermione in a lively conversation with Severus. They appeared to be completely intent on each other. No doubt planning their next tryst, Welkin thought angrily. Well, fuck propriety then. If he was going to play his little games with her, she’d be damned if she’d just sit back and take it!

Welkin finished her drink and smiled at Lovegood. "Xeno, I hear you’re quite the dancer. Would you like to join me on the floor and get this party started?"

"I do so love to dance! I’d be delighted!" 

They took to the floor, and he proceeded to perform an odd series of gyrations and hand movements. Welkin studied his technique for a few moments, and then launched into her own version of it.

* * *

"What the hell?" Snape asked himself. What was she doing with Lovegood now? It surely couldn’t be called dancing. It looked like some sort of odd bohemian mating ritual. Still, he would rather have her dancing with Lovegood, however ridiculous it looked, than with one of the other men here. Lovegood was essentially harmless, in his estimation. His head was too filled with nonsense, and he could not concentrate long enough to act as Welkin’s seducer. When she was inebriated enough, Severus would approach her and try again. He was a little ashamed of himself for using liquor to seduce his own wife, but he was also quite desperate. If it worked, he was not about to quibble with himself about moral and ethical issues. He just wanted Welkin back - anyway that he could get her.

* * *

"That was lovely. I did so enjoy it." Xeno kissed her hand. "I want to thank you, as well, for being so kind to my daughter, Luna. She has needed a woman’s guidance and support since her mother passed away. She tells me you have been a great friend to her. I am very grateful for that."

"I love Luna. She’s a very special girl. No need to thank me at all." Welkin smiled, as she excused herself to return to the punch bowls. She still had not eaten anything tonight, and it probably wasn’t wise to drink more, but she didn’t care.

What a sweet man, Welkin thought, as she picked up a new glass. If only she could think of a suitable partner for him, perhaps she could get Albus to play matchmaker again. Although, considering how her own match was turning out, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all, she thought, the sadness returning, and encasing her like a shroud.

"Allow me," another too familiar voice intoned. Lucius Malfoy took the glass from her hand, and ladled a generous portion into it, handing it back to her with a smile. He served himself a goblet of the red as well.

"Well, well, well - Lucius Malfoy - just butter my butt and call me a biscuit - why am I not surprised? I thought you never attended this little soiree - even though the Weasleys invite you every year, I’m told. Just too common for your high falutin’ aristocratic ways? Why did you suddenly deign to attend, milord?" She curtsied to him in an affected way that let him know it was intended as an insult.

Welkin’s mild southern American accent was starting to become more pronounced as the liquor took hold, as was her use of colorful colloquialisms.

"How charming." Lucius smiled, taking a good deep look into the bountiful cleavage that was nearly spilling out of her dress as she genuflected to him.

"Actually, I heard that you were in attendance with Albus, not your beloved Severus, whom you apparently are now living apart from, the rumormongers do tell."

He glanced over at Snape, who was glaring threateningly at him, and had at last arisen from his chair. "Did the beatings finally convince you to leave him?"

"That’s none of your damn business," Welkin said, fixing him with a fake sweet smile.

"Oh, but it most certainly _is_ my business, my dear - since I intend to be your next lover." Lucius gave her another obvious once-over, and returned her fake smile with his own overly confident one.

"Dream on, you snake! You really have a rich fantasy life, don’t you?" Welkin laughed. "Where’s Narcissa, by the way?" She scanned the room for signs of his wife.

"Now, Welkin, would that have been wise of me to bring my wife, considering it’s you that I came here expressly to see? Finish your drink like a good girl, and I shall dance with you properly. I saw you with Lovegood, and that was truly a pathetic display. I shall dance with you as a man _should_ dance with a woman - closely and with great style."

"Stay away from my wife, Malfoy." They both turned to see Snape, looking daggers at Lucius, reflexively clenching and unclenching his hands into fists as they hung at his sides.

"Your wife by technicality," Lucius told him. "No longer a _real_ wife, if she’s not sharing your bed, is she?" he sneered the question. "Shall we have our dance now, Welkin?" He held out one smooth, well-manicured aristocratic hand to her, confidently waiting for her to place hers into it.

"Welkin! You will not dance with him! He only wishes to seduce you, and I will not countenance that!" Severus warned her.

"Oh…so _now_ you’re getting all moral on me, and up in my face about it? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think, considering what you’ve done? Well…what’s good for the gander is…" She hesitated, the liquor clouding her perception a bit, trying unsuccessfully to think of the rest of the saying.

"Oh, shit! You know what I mean!" She took another gulp from her glass, set it down on the table, and defiantly placed her hand in Lucius’s outstretched palm. "Come on, Lucius!" She led him away. "Let’s go cut a rug!"

* * *

"Oh, dear," Albus told Molly and Arthur. "This isn’t going at all as I expected." He saw that Severus was seething with anger and frustration, as he stood impotently watching Welkin dance with Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius Malfoy has never attended any of our parties before. How could we have known he’d suddenly decide to attend this one?" Molly fretted.

"It’s not your fault," Albus assured her. "Courtesy dictates that you had to invite him. Hopefully, the plan can be salvaged, if we can just manage to get him away from Welkin before Severus does something rash."

* * *

"Lucius, if you put your hand there one more time, I swear I’m going to knee you right where it hurts the most!" Welkin told him, replacing his hand on her waist where it belonged, from where it had _‘casually’_ wandered.

"Where the hell did you take dancing lessons anyway - Wizarding Wrestling Academy of Greater Hogsmeade?"

Lucius chuckled, enjoying her humor, and her resistance. "I cannot help myself. I am quite overcome by your charms," he told her.

"Oh, shut the fuck up and just dance!" she ordered.

* * *

The more that she observed them, the less that Hermione understood these supposed adults at all. Professor Snape was watching Lucius Malfoy dance with Welkin, looking as if he wanted to Avada Kedavra him on the spot. And why was Welkin even dancing with Malfoy anyway? He was loathsome. Was she trying to make Snape jealous?

"This just has to stop," she muttered to herself.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was not only dancing with Welkin, he was managing to put his hands on her in places that were far too intimate, much to Snape’s displeasure. Welkin kept thwarting him, Snape noticed, but the fact that he managed to touch her at all was infuriating to Severus.

"Stop that! That’s it! I’m out of this!" Welkin hissed to Lucius. She broke contact and walked away, exiting into the nearest room, which happened to be the kitchen.

"Perfect…alone at last," Lucius purred to himself, and started after her. A hand on his shoulder halted him, and turned him to face a very angry looking Severus Snape.

"Where do you think that _you_ are going?" Snape asked. 

Lucius smirked at him, but before he could reply, Severus quickly drew back with his right fist and punched him in the face hard, knocking him flat on his back on the floor.

"Yes! And down he goes!" The Weasley twins slapped each other’s palms at this new development. They had been standing back watching the action for quite some time, wondering when and what Snape was going to do. Apparently he had decided to forgo magic, and thrash Lucius Malfoy the Muggle way, which was so much more entertaining. They led a congratulatory round of applause for Snape, from a good number of party guests who were not too fond of Malfoy anyway.

Snape ignored them all. Instead of heading for the kitchen as they had all expected, he grabbed his cloak from one of the pegs on the wall at the front door and exited that way, apparently intent on returning to Hogwarts.

* * *

Welkin sat at the kitchen table drinking a big glass of ice water to sober herself. She was upset that Severus had not seen fit to rescue her from Lucius Malfoy’s dastardly, and much too grabby clutches. Payback had seemed like such a good idea at the time - until she actually started dancing with lecherous Lucius, and had to contend with his roving hands and suggestive comments.

She heard the door open behind her, and steeled herself, expecting Lucius to have followed her. She turned in her seat, and instead, she found Hermione Granger standing by her chair. She would have almost rather had to fight off Lucius.

"What do you want?" she asked. "Severus isn’t here, if that’s who you’re looking for," Welkin added bluntly.

"No. I’m not. I came in to apologize to you. It’s the first time you’ve been alone all evening, and I didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts without saying how sorry I am about what happened in the library. I should never have leapt on Professor Snape like a silly…lovesick…"

"What?" Welkin interrupted. "Are you saying that _you_ jumped _him?_ " 

"Yes." Hermione blushed, embarrassed again at the thought of how impulsively she had behaved.

"I hope you and Professor Snape can forgive me someday, and I hope I haven’t really ruined your lives, like he keeps saying. I don’t know why I thought he’d be interested in me, when I knew he loved you, and was a married man."

" _You_ kissed _him?_ " Welkin repeated, as if she hadn’t heard the rest of what Hermione was saying, even though she had.

"Yes, but obviously he didn’t want me to. He’s certainly made that plain enough - and I swear I’ll never do anything like that again. It was just a stupid infatuation," Hermione assured her.

Welkin sighed. "Oh, Severus. What have I put you through? All over a stupid misunderstanding."

"Well, if you still love him and know what’s good for you, you’ll stop acting like a scorned woman and go try to catch him," Hermione advised her with a disapproving frown.

"What do you mean, catch him?" Welkin asked. 

"He just knocked out Lucius Malfoy, grabbed his cloak, and went out the front door, is what I mean. He may already be…"

Welkin leapt up and ran out of the kitchen, leaving Hermione to follow. 

"Severus!" Welkin shouted as she ran through the banquet room, almost tripping over the prone form of Lucius Malfoy, as he lay there on the floor still groaning, his hand to his jaw.

"He broke my jaw," Lucius moaned. "I’ll have his job for this." 

"I doubt that, Lucius. On both counts," Dumbledore told him, as he headed for the front window with Arthur and Molly Weasley. Fred and George were already peering outside, looking highly entertained.

* * *

"Severus! Don’t go!" Welkin had shouted as soon as she ran outside. Now she stood in the snow looking up at the night sky, shivering from the cold in her thin dress. He was gone, she thought forlornly.

"Oh, Severus," she sighed again to herself. "I’ve been such an idiot. I should have trusted you."

"Yes. You should have," Snape agreed with her. She whirled in place and saw him standing there in his cloak, several yards from the window.

"Severus," she said quietly. "I thought you’d left me before we could…" 

"I will _never_ leave you, and I shall never be unfaithful to our vows," he interrupted, walking towards her. 

With a sweeping gesture he opened his dark cloak wide, opened his arms to her, and she gratefully ran into them, enfolded once again by his warmth.

* * *

"Don’t hog the window, boys," Arthur Weasley told his sons. 

"Tell us what’s going on out there?" Molly Weasley added.

"A lot of this," Fred told them, as he and George hugged and clutched at one another comically. 

"Oh, _Severus!_ " Fred said dramatically. 

"Oh, _Welkin!_ " George replied. 

They both made excessively loud kissing noises in the air.

"You’d better get out there quick, or I think they might end up rolling around in the snow," Fred advised them.

Molly elbowed them out of the way and looked out the window. A smile of satisfaction quickly spread across her mouth. "Oh, how romantic…Arthur, come see."

Arthur and Albus moved closer to the window as Molly left. 

"I’ll go get the basket! Boys, come help me!" She jerked them both away from the window with her. "Give Professor Snape and his wife a little privacy now. You’ve seen more than enough for one evening."

"Quite a successful plan, all in all," Albus congratulated Arthur. "But Molly’s right. You’d better send them on their way to the cottage quickly. I’ve had to warn Severus and Welkin repeatedly this year about…shall we say…overly explicit public displays of affection?"

"Severus Snape?" Arthur sounded incredulous. He turned back to look out the window again, and noted that the action out there between the two _did_ seem to be intensifying, just as Dumbledore had warned that it might.

"You know, Albus, I think I’ve just developed a new respect for that man."

* * *

"The cottage is just down that direction." Arthur pointed across the snow and into the forest. "Less than a quarter of a mile. Close, but secluded. Molly and I still use it occasionally when we want to have some privacy from the children. When Albus told us about his little plan to get you two back together, we cleaned it and prepared it for you, just in case. It’s such a long flight back to Hogwarts, and we thought you might want to get…reacquainted in private there, instead of making that long trip."

Molly hugged her husband, and looked at Severus and Welkin, beaming at them with her generous smile. "I’ve put fresh linens on the bed for you, there’s wood there for the fireplace, and the picnic basket contains some tasty snacks and some elf wine. Now, you two be on your way. We know you have better things to do than stay here and drink eggnog with an old married couple and a few dozen people."

"Thank you!" Welkin hugged Molly. "This is just so thoughtful of you to go to all this trouble for us."

Snape picked up the picnic basket, and offered his hand to Arthur in a handshake. "Yes. We do appreciate everything that you have done this evening." The couple had helped him regain his beloved Welkin, and he would never forget it. He would have to think of some way to repay them.

"It was no trouble at all," Molly told them. "Now, go on now…I said shoo!" 

Welkin returned to Snape’s side and put her arm around his waist, as he hefted the picnic basket with his left hand and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. They headed in the direction that Arthur had pointed.

"Goodnight! Sleep well!" Molly called after them. 

She and Arthur stood watching until Snape and Welkin disappeared from view into the forest.

"Sleep well?" Arthur repeated. "I don’t think there’s going to be any sleeping in _that_ cottage tonight, Molly, my love." He laughed, as he led her back inside to rejoin their guests, and to deal with the injured jaw and injured pride of Lucius Malfoy.

* * *


	26. No More Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Welkin share more secrets. He ponders his attraction to her and to Lily.

* * *

Welkin was sore in places she didn’t even know it was possible to be sore. Deprived of her wifely companionship for several days, Severus had been insatiable tonight, and even more demanding than usual. Not that she was complaining. It had been wonderful. She stretched her arms and legs carefully, her body half exposed by the down coverlet, and admired Severus’s naked little behind in the light from the fireplace. He was standing at the small table in the corner of the room, his back to her, as he explored the contents of the picnic basket that Molly Weasley had thoughtfully assembled for them.

"Here." He turned and tossed something to her. "I wanted to cover you with one of these earlier. It looks as if I got my Christmas wish."

"Oh, you got your Christmas wish alright - and then some - and I'm the one feeling the results of it right now," she told him. "I got my Christmas wish too. You're the only thing I wanted this year."

"You were on the 'naughty' list, and so you got me," Severus maintained, making Welkin laugh.

She unfolded the garment he had thrown at her, looked at it, and started to laugh even harder. "Oh, fuck. It’s one of those incredibly ugly Christmas sweaters. Did Molly give you one too?"

For his answer, and only because he knew it would amuse her, Snape pulled his own sweater on over his head and turned to face her, striking a jaunty pose, one hand on his hip. The front of his putrid green sweater featured something that might have been a large reindeer. At least, it had antlers of some sort. The nose and eyes were large furry balls of yarn, and the antlers were decorated with yarn Christmas balls in colors so bright they might blind you if you stared at them long enough.

"Whoa, Nelly! Now _that’s_ definitely a look. Especially with your stuff hanging out like that," Welkin observed, indicating his exposed penis. "I like it. It makes a statement. Very seasonal and decorative, yet somehow...grotesque," she critiqued for him.

Welkin pulled her sweater on over her head and got out of bed, striking her own pose. "How do I look? Does this excite you, Professor?" Her sweater featured a smaller, presumably female version of the reindeer, without antlers, but festooned in equally eye-bleeding bright colors.

"That garment _almost_ makes me not want to fuck you." He was being facetious, of course. There was really nothing in this world that Welkin could ever put on her body that would make him not want to fuck her.

"We’ll use them for contraception, then," Welkin agreed. She tossed his green boxers at him - the ones she had bought for him - realizing as she did that he must have donned them especially for her - in hopes that they would be reconciled this evening at the party.

"Cover up your junk, will ya? It’s distracting me. What’s in that basket to eat?" She slipped her red panties back on, and joined him at the table, as he pulled on his boxers.

Severus had loaded a plate with various meats, cheeses, and confections for her. He handed it to her, and began to fill his own plate as she sat down. When he was finished, he opened the elf wine and poured them each a glass, setting the basket on the floor to give them more room at the table.

"What should we toast to?" Welkin asked. 

Severus looked at her seriously, considering her question. "To our love, and to no more secrets," he said finally, having made up his mind about something. He did not want his lack of truthfulness to ever again be an impediment to their love. Welkin had not believed him when he most needed her to, because he had been deceptive and not forthcoming with her in the past. From this day forward, he determined that he would hide nothing from her.

"To our love, and no more secrets," Welkin agreed. She looked puzzled at the last part, but didn’t ask.

"I can’t believe you really decked Lucius Malfoy," Welkin told him as they started eating. "I wish I'd seen it! What kind of repercussions are you going to get from that?"

"None. I would not care if I did get repercussions from it. He should not have been so familiar with you."

"Yeah, _damn_ him. Doesn’t he know that’s _your_ job?" Welkin grinned, loving that things seemed to be back to normal between them. Maybe even better than normal. She devoured a piece of something that might have been game fowl of some sort, chewing and swallowing before delicately licking each finger clean.

"Hermione apologized to me. She told me what really happened. Please don't blame her for having a crush on you and starting all this. Don't take it out on her in class or embarrass her. I think she's already pretty mortified by the whole thing. She's learned her lesson, and so have I. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Severus. I guess I just wasn't thinking clearly, I was so upset. I should have known that you would never do that. Not in a million years."

"As long as you believe me now. I want no one else. You must believe that, Welkin. I would never dishonor our love." 

"I’ll never doubt you again. Not about _anything_." She caught his gaze and held it for a long moment, so that he would know just how seriously she meant that. "I'm so sorry for what I put you through, Severus. I was such a fool. I should have listened to you instead of acting like an insane woman and running away like that! I can't promise you that I'll never do anything stupid again, but I can promise you I'll never do _that_ stupid thing again. I'll give you a chance to tell me your side of things, and I'll listen...I'll really _listen_ to you, Severus."

"I am gratified to hear that, my love. Being apart from you, and thinking that it might always be so, has been...difficult. I cannot believe that so many people were trying to reunite us," Severus told her.

"They care about us, I guess," Welkin said, ignoring the cheese on her own plate to select a bite of the same thing from his.

"They care about _you_ ," Snape corrected. 

"And you too, Sevvy. You never believe that when I tell you, but Albus is very fond of you, and I’m sure a lot of other people at Hogwarts are too."

Snape considered that possibility. He had been shocked and surprised at Welkin’s revelation earlier this evening that Albus had engineered her arrival at Hogwarts, and maneuvered them together, thus assuring their ultimate romance.

"I am also fond of him," Severus finally admitted. "I am indebted to Albus for so much, particularly where you are concerned. I owe him my happiness. I owe him my freedom from Azkaban. But I can no longer owe him my secrecy."

He stood, and drew Welkin to her feet as well. "Come sit with me by the fire, my love. I have something I have wanted to tell you for so long. Let there be no more secrets between us."

Welkin followed him to the fireplace, and sank down on the soft, thick surface of the Tibetan lambswool rug with him. With her back to him, he pulled her between his legs until she was leaning back against his chest, his arms encircling her, and his chin resting on the top of her head. There was a long pause, and then he finally began to speak, telling her the rest of the tale of his association with Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

"So, Voldemort thinks you’re still a Death Eater and spying on Albus, but you’re really a spy _for_ Albus and the Order of the Phoenix, that he heads. Severus, that’s so dangerous for you. Why does it have to be you?" Welkin had turned towards him as his story progressed, and was now seated across his lap, her arms around his waist.

Snape studied the concerned look on her face and tried to reassure her. "It must be me because I am one of few who are able to shield their thoughts and emotions from the Dark Lord. I have been very successful at it thus far," he added.

"It must be a terrible strain for you though, always pretending to be something that you’re not. What if something goes wrong? What if you slip? I don’t want anything to happen to you." Welkin was looking at him with a worried frown.

"That will not happen. I will not slip. I have too much at stake now," he said, stroking her hair. "I have you and Sullivan."

It was the first time that Severus had automatically included his son in discussion of their family without having to be prompted by Welkin. Had he finally bonded with him? 

"I wonder if Minerva is doing okay with Sully." 

"I am sure that they are fine. She would have Owled us if things were not well in hand."

"I know. It’s just that he’s so _little_. It still scares me sometimes, that I might do something to him to hurt him without even knowing it. I’ve never had to deal with a baby before."

"You are doing fine with him. He smiles quite often. I do not think he would smile if he were in discomfort," Snape logically concluded.

"He does smile a lot, doesn’t he? And did you know that he's already tried to flip over?" Welkin reported with some excitement. "That’s very unusual, isn’t it? I mean - that’s pretty advanced for his age - don’t you think?"

"He is quite exceptional," Severus agreed proudly. "I do not believe that he is in danger of becoming a dunderhead."

They were quiet for several minutes, watching the roaring fire in the fireplace, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Severus?" Welkin finally broke the silence. 

"Yes?" 

"Would you like to do it by the fire? This rug is _soooooo_ soft. Can we get a big one for our bedroom? Only in black instead of white."

"Have you been practicing Legilimency, Welkin? I was just thinking about the same thing - making love to you on this rug."

"You haven’t started my lessons in Legilimency yet. I guess I just know you really well." She smiled broadly at him, and his heart did a happy somersault in his chest. He had missed her smile.

"I guess you do," Snape agreed. He decided not to remind her of her recent lapse in knowing him so well. There was no need. He did not think it would reoccur. 

"Let me assist you with taking off this atrocious _‘contraceptive device’_ ," he said, helping her pull her Weasley Christmas sweater over her head, and tossing it into the corner. He pulled off his own sweater, and it joined hers.

His happiness at being back together with Welkin was causing him to do many uncharacteristic things tonight. He might as well add one more to the list. He picked a pirate theme from among the plethora of Welkin's fantasies that he had to choose from. It was completely out of character for him, and that was one of the reasons he knew that she would love it.

_"Avast ye, me darlin'! Cap’n Severus Snape here, Scourage of the seven seas - thar be no use ta hang the jib - heave-to! - bring ’er alongside and prepare ta be boarded, ye saucy wench!"_

Snape grabbed her around the waist and buried his face between her breasts. _"Arrr!"_ he exclaimed, shaking his head from side to side. _"Surrender ye’r booty ta me, ye buxom beauty!"_

Welkin dissolved into laughter, struggling against him, virtuously attempting to guard her booty from being plundered.

* * *

"Severus?" Welkin shifted in his arms as they lay watching the fire again. Snape had retrieved the coverlet from the bed for them to lie under. Outside the wind howled and a fresh fall of snow swirled and drifted to lightly cover the ground, while inside, in each other's arms, it was warm and dry.

"What?" he asked, yawning widely. 

"Do you visit Lily’s grave?" 

"This is the first year that I have not. I have always visited on the anniversary of her death." He was no longer hesitant to talk about Lily, or anything else, with Welkin. 

"Why didn’t you this year?" 

"Because our son chose to make his arrival that night." 

"Oh." She thought about that for a while. 

"You could still go, you know. It doesn’t have to be on the night she died. It’s alright with me. I’m not jealous of her or her memory anymore, and I know you love her. You should go, if you want to," she concluded.

"I loved her." Severus corrected her in the past tense. "She is dead and buried. I no longer desire to share that grave with her. Lily was very special to me. She always will be. But you are the only woman who I love now."

"You should go then - to Godric’s Hollow - to visit the grave." 

"Would you be willing to go with me?" Snape asked hesitantly, as he stroked her arm.

"You would want me to?" 

"Yes, I would. If it would not disturb you. We could stop there on the way back to Hogwarts."

"Of course I’ll come, if you really want me to. I just didn’t want to intrude on your privacy where Lily was concerned. Tell me, Severus…what kind of flowers did she like? We should get some to put on the grave."

Welkin was so completely different from Lily in important ways, Snape thought to himself, yet she was also so much the same in numerous other ways. She was clever, vivacious, popular, and magically gifted, just as Lily had been. She was confident in herself, but also self-deprecating, and willing to concede that she might be wrong about some things that she believed, in a way which was unlike how Lily had been. When Welkin joked or parodied, it was as often about herself as it was about someone else. 

Aside from his mental comparisons of Welkin to Lily, Severus had observed that, when the spotlight was drawn to Welkin, it was not because she had sought it. That appealed to Severus too. He could not abide seekers of undeserved celebrity, like Gilderoy Lockhart and Harry Potter, or insufferable know-it-alls, like the brilliant, but annoying Hermione Granger. 

Yes, there was still the question of Miss Granger to be dealt with. How that silly chit of a girl could ever have convinced herself that he would prefer her over Welkin was beyond his understanding. Aside from the age issue, she was simply not his type. If someone dry, overly pedantic, and humourless was his type, he would have courted himself, he thought to himself drolly. 

True to form, Welkin had asked Severus not to embarrass or punish Hermione for her ill-considered indiscretion, by making her classes with him more difficult. But the girl had nearly derailed his marriage. Of course he intended to extract at least some small measure of retribution for that. Henceforth, he would put her nose to the grindstone in his class so severely that she would not have time to blush and simper her apologies at him. Perhaps that would teach her to refrain from meddling in other peoples' lives.

The kindness and empathy Welkin was exhibiting about Hermione, and about him visiting Lily’s grave each year, was one of the ways in which she both resembled, and differed from Lily in an important way. Lily had been a friend to him when he had needed one badly, but Welkin would never forget him as Lily had. It was more than a function of Welkin being older than Lily was when Severus had known her. Perhaps Lily could be forgiven for bowing to some of the peer pressures of youth, and abandoning him. But somehow, he knew that, had it been Welkin, she would not have done so. Once given, her heart was as stable and unchanging as her mind was mercurial and restless, and her love for him was as solid and eternal as the great magical stone effigies of Avalon. 

Welkin tended to take the unappreciated and the supposed misfits of the world under her protective wing. His Welkin rarely had a truly unkind word to say about most people, except when they had shown by their actions that they were cruel and uncaring. Her temper was hot and impulsive, like Lily’s had been, but unlike her, she rarely held a grudge and her anger dissipated quickly, her tempestuous outbursts often forgotten within hours or even minutes. Welkin was tolerant of things about him that Lily either was not, or might not have been, tolerant of.

How had Albus Dumbledore known, when he had selected Welkin for him and brought her here to their world, that she would be so perfectly what Severus desperately needed her to be? Then again, why should he marvel at that? Dumbledore was a very wise and perceptive wizard, and his judgment about a lot of things was uncannily accurate. Why wouldn’t he have seen in Welkin the qualities that Severus had come to treasure in her? 

“You’re making me nervous staring at me like that, Severus. Are you plotting revenge against me for being such a fucking dunderhead and doubting you?” Welkin asked. “I’ll let you spank me again, for my punishment, if you want,” she offered, smiling at him suggestively. 

Lily would have liked Welkin if she’d had the chance to meet her, he concluded. Snape was certain of it. Perhaps she would even have been happy for him, that he had found someone at last. She and Welkin might even have become friends.

* * *


	27. Bloodlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin's famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) witch ancestress is revealed. Her disturbing dream is interpreted by Dumbledore.

* * *

"So, what is the _'matter of great importance'_ that you wanted to see me about?" Welkin asked Dumbledore, after she was comfortably seated in his office. Severus was seated next to her, looking as if he were trying to read Albus’s mind. He hadn’t known exactly why Dumbledore had called them to a conference either.

"It involves this," Albus said, pushing a dark leather-bound book towards her. 

"My grandmother’s journal?" Welkin recognized it right away. Mamie had always seemed to be scribbling away at a series of the things, but this was the last one she’d written in for a year before her death.

"Severus told me that you borrowed it from my brother, Glenn. I can’t imagine why. It’s probably just a bunch of bad poetry, or ingredients for home remedies. She was big into balms and elixirs."

"Not precisely. There are other, much more intriguing things she has written. Though it is interesting that she favored making her own medicinals. A family tradition, perhaps?" Albus asked.

"I guess. They apparently brought a lot of recipes for things when they came over from the British Isles." Welkin shrugged. "People used to tell Mamie she should have gone to school, and become a doctor. She was pretty good at treating ailments for the folks around where we lived, who didn’t have the money to pay a regular doctor, or go to the hospital."

"Your middle name, Welkin - Morgana, as I recall from your wedding ceremony - is that also a family tradition?" Albus asked.

"Well, yes. As a matter of fact, it is. It’s been passed down to the oldest girl in each family for hundreds of years, usually as a middle name. What does my name have to do with anything?" Welkin asked, wishing he would get to the point instead of asking a lot of questions.

" _Morgana_ ," Snape repeated, considering the implications of the reason that her family continually selected that name for female progeny over the centuries. He thought that he had already guessed what Albus was hinting at, but hesitated to state it bluntly, it seemed so far-fetched to him. "Is this about Welkin’s witch ancestry? 

"Yes. It most certainly is. Based on what I’ve read in this journal, and if the claims in here check out through the proper channels at the Ministry, you may be married to a descendant of one of the most famous witches in Wizarding history," Dumbledore told Snape.

" _Morgan le Fay?_ " Snape asked, saying the name almost reverently. 

"One and the same, my boy. Tutored by non other than, the great Merlin himself!" Albus slapped his hand on the journal for emphasis. "Even though it must go through the proper channels to be verified, what I have read in here has convinced me that it is true." He looked at Welkin curiously. "Do you know this name, this person of whom we speak?"

"Of course. I used to read all about King Arthur. Morgan le Fay was Arthur’s half-sister, wasn’t she? I think one of the stories was that she started learning magic at a convent, and then was tutored by Merlin the Magician. There were a lot of differing legends about her, but most of them said she was a very powerful sorceress." Welkin recited what she knew from memory.

"We prefer the term _'witch'_ these days, but you are basically correct," Albus said. "Morgana is a variant form of Morgan. Morgan’s mother, the Lady Igraine, was herself learned in magic, and Morgan le Fay was connected through her to the Druid traditions, which may explain your particular wand’s selection of you, and the amount of power you were channeling through it almost immediately. Morgan le Fay was also most highly skilled in healing. Perhaps we should concentrate on that in your tutelage in the future."

"I’m related to Morgan le Fay?" Welkin looked astonished. "That’s got to be the _coolest_ thing I’ve ever heard! And all this time, I thought I was just a little country girl from out in the sticks."

"Apparently, the _Daily Prophet_ does not know how correct they were when they reported on our nuptials," Snape told her. _'Reputed to be from a Wizarding family of great antiquity...'_ Snape repeated what they had written about Welkin, which she had scoffed at as being outrageous _'bullshit'_ at the time.

"Albus, did you know about this when you selected me for Severus? Is that why you chose me?" Welkin asked him.

"I knew you had witch lineage, but I had no idea that it was such a remarkable one. Apparently, your family has hidden it exceedingly well over the centuries. They have moved around quite a bit, and used various methods to shield themselves from detection. For what reason, I am still not quite sure. Their efforts in that respect intensified following the unfortunate incident near Salem in the 1600's when one of your witch ancestors was hanged. 

"But no, I selected you for Severus based on my observations about you as a person, in the months that I watched you go about your life in the Muggle world. I simply thought that you would make a good match for Severus. Nothing more or less than that. Your match had other benefits to speak for it as well, such as a way to return at least one of your family members to the fold, so to speak. Despite our powers, we magicals are a dwindling strain of the human species, I am afraid. The Muggles easily outstrip us in breeding. To return one of our own to the fold is always desirable, to help ensure our survival. Increasing our numbers, and our ultimate defeat of Voldemort, are most imperative."

"No one else must know this about Welkin," Snape said abruptly. 

"I totally agree, Severus," Albus concurred with a worried frown. 

"But why? I don’t understand. Why shouldn’t anyone else know?" Welkin asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Because if word of your ancestry should reach the Dark Lord, it might be dangerous knowledge," Snape told her.

"Indeed, it would," Albus agreed. "The power and the prestige inherent in your bloodline would be a tremendous temptation to him. We cannot risk that. Morgan le Fay was one of the most powerful dark witches in our history. Voldemort would almost certainly try to find a way to use you to his advantage. As a recruitment tool to draw new Death Eaters to his cause, or..."

"What do you mean, _use_ me?" Welkin asked, starting to get a little worried herself. She flashed back on the dreams she had when she and Severus were apart from one another.

"You don’t mean _use_ like for _sex_ , do you?" Welkin asked hesitantly, feeling a little silly for even asking the question. Could a misshapen creature like that even manage to have normal sex? 

"Why would you ask that?" Albus questioned sharply. 

"Because I had nightmares when Severus and I were separated. In them, Voldemort was forcing himself on me on this big stone slab. They've stopped now, but it was beyond awful at the time!"

Snape was staring at her with a look of great alarm. 

"What else do you remember about the dreams?" Albus asked, trying to stay calm for Welkin’s sake. "Were you alone?"

"No. There were other people there I think, but I couldn’t see them, except for Severus," she said. "I think I could hear them though. They were chanting something I didn’t understand. The words didn’t make any sense to me."

"Can you repeat any of them?" Albus asked. 

Welkin haltingly tried her best to reproduce some of the sounds she thought she remembered.

" _Child…child within…the womb_ ," Dumbledore translated. "Are you sure that's what you heard?"

"I think so, yes. It sounded like what I told you. What is it? Please tell me it’s _not_ what it sounds like," she said fearfully.

Snape was still staring at her, but was now clearly horrified. 

"It sounds like a bastardization of an ancient Druid fertility rite. A rite for producing a male child," Dumbledore said. "So now we know what form his use of you would take, should he discover your lineage. He would seek to impregnate you with his child."

"I’d rather die!" 

Welkin was as horrified as Severus at the idea of that monster touching her, and planting his seed in her belly to fester and ferment.

"Severus!" She grasped his hand tightly. "You won’t let him touch me, will you? I’ll go _mad_ if he touches me!"

* * *

Author's Note: _Welkin's grandmother's nickname, Mamie, is pronounced with a long "a" sound in the first syllable._


	28. Snape's Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus learns of Welkin's pledge to Dumbledore concerning him. Ron Weasley's mouth gets him in trouble with Snape the day before the Yule Ball, and Welkin attempts a little matchmaking of her own.

* * *

"Promise me that you won’t let Voldemort touch me, Severus. I’d rather you’d _kill_ me before I was forced to carry his child. It would be an abomination! I couldn’t stand it! I’d rather die!"

Welkin shivered at the thought, still clutching Snape’s hand desperately. 

"I promise you that I will do my best to protect you always, but please do not ask this other thing of me, Welkin. I could never bring myself to do such a thing," Snape told her vehemently, pulling her into his arms to try to calm her.

"Then, I’ll kill _myself_ , if you can’t do it," Welkin insisted, clinging to him for comfort. 

"Stop that!" Dumbledore ordered sternly. "There will be no more talk of you killing yourself, or of Severus performing such a rash and unavailing deed."

Dumbledore rarely raised his voice to chastise, and the fact that he was doing so now immediately got their attention.

"Welkin, think about what you are saying." Albus continued more calmly, trying to make her focus through the emotion, and see a more rational viewpoint. "If you were to do away with yourself, where is the help for Severus in that? Should he have _need_ of you," he reminded her. "Remember? The _Gates of Hell?_ Do you not remember your pledge?"

"The _Gates of Hell?_ " Snape asked, looking puzzled. 

Welkin was brought up short by Dumbledore’s pointed reminder. "Yes…the _Gates of Hell_ …I do remember."

She shifted in Snape’s arms to look up at him. "I told Albus that I would stand against the very _Gates of Hell_ for you." She lifted a hand to stroke across his cheek. Albus was right. She could not abandon him. No matter what happened to her. "Thank you for reminding me, Albus," she said, while still gazing calmly into Severus’s dark eyes. "I’m okay now, I think. You don’t have to worry. I won’t ever forget again."

Snape stared back at Welkin, astounded. Just when he thought he knew everything about this woman, she surprised him with something new about herself. There always seemed to be new depths to her that he had not yet plumbed.

* * *

"You said yourself that your dreams do not always come true," Snape reminded her later. "Let us not speak of it again, unless it becomes necessary. Put it out of your mind."

He poured her another cup of coffee. "Shall I sweeten it for you?" he asked her solicitously. 

"No. I can do it. You don’t have to _baby_ me all the time, Severus. I just panicked for a moment, is all. I’m a lot stronger than I appear to be," Welkin assured him. She stirred two level spoons of brown sugar into the strong brew.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Snape replied, a smile quirking his lips. 

They were seated at an empty table in the Great Hall, which sometimes served as a communal common room, where students from all four houses at Hogwarts could study and socialize together, if they chose.

"Albus was really upset when you told him that you had let me in on the secret about you being a spy, wasn’t he?" Welkin said, lowering her voice to a whisper, and leaning close to him to guard this portion of their conversation from being inadvertently overheard. She remembered the furious look on Dumbledore’s face, and his harsh words to Snape about it.

"To put it mildly," Snape agreed. Dumbledore had been as close to being livid as he had ever seen him. Snape squared his shoulders and lifted his chin a little defiantly. "He will just have to deal with it. I will keep no more secrets from you, no matter what. I know that you would never betray anything that I have told you." 

Welkin smiled at him proudly for defending her, and rebelling a little against Dumbledore's iron grip on him, even though she understood why Severus felt he had to fulfill his obligation to him...and to Lily. She admired him for it, even though she also selfishly wished he might not be quite so admirable in this particular instance. She had an unsettling feeling that Severus was traversing a mine field where Voldemort was concerned.

Welkin also admired Albus, but she felt that he had no right to consume so much of Severus's life the way he had for so many years. Maybe that was the real reason that Albus had gone looking for someone as a mate for Severus. Maybe he felt a little guilty, Welkin thought. 

Severus changed the subject. "So…you said you would stand against the very _Gates of Hell_ for me?" Snape arched an eyebrow at her. "This is somewhat surprising news, since you have constantly reminded me during the past year whenever we quarreled, that you did very well without me before we were married, and could do so again. This pledge of yours must mean that you are actually...rather fond of me?" He queried her about it in a somewhat rhetorical and teasing way.

"Don't get the big head about it. You have to understand that I was under some strain and duress at the time when I said that _Gates of Hell_ thing. We were just about to be married, after you _tricked me_ into it, and I was seriously thinking about hot footin’ it out of Hogwarts before the big day. I only made that pledge to try to appease Dumbledore until I could find the nearest exit," Welkin claimed, giving him a smug look. "I don’t know _why_ in the world I didn’t cut and run on you. I guess I just took pity on you, considering how lost you'd be without me," Welkin concluded with another smirk.

"Oh, really?" Snape said, looking entirely dubious. "Admit it, Mrs. Snape - you are insanely enamored of me - not to mention being a very jealous and possessive woman."

"Insane, maybe. Enamored? Not hardly!" she lied. "And who are you calling jealous and possessive? Ha! Now if _that_ isn’t the cauldron calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is!"

" _You_ are a charming liar, Mrs. Snape," he accused. 

"And _you_ are a charming asshole, Mr. Snape," she rejoined. "But, on to more important things. The Yule Ball is tomorrow night, and before that, we should decide where we’re spending Christmas this year. I vote for Hogwarts."

"You do not wish to spend Sullivan’s first Christmas at Spinner’s End? I thought that is why we incorporated a nursery there during the summer?" He looked surprised.

"He’s so _little_ , Severus. I don’t think Christmas is going to be very high-concept to him until next year. I’d rather not go to the trouble of making the trip with him, and dragging along all of his baby stuff, when he’s just going to spend Christmas drooling and peeing on himself and us, smiling at us like the little charmer he is, and guzzling at my breast endlessly like a fat little piglet. Is that alright with you? We can have a nice Christmas and New Year celebration here. Maybe we can go into Hogsmeade for New Year’s Eve," she suggested. "Can’t _Father Christmas_ just visit the dungeons this year?"

"Whatever pleases you, _Peaches_ ," Snape said, employing his new pet name for her. 

"Thank you, _Herb_. You’re a _Prince_ among wizards." 

"And you are my _Druid Enchantress_." 

"And you are _both_ making me want to throw up," Ron Weasley muttered, just a little too loudly as usual, as he, Harry, and Hermione were passing by. Wasn't it bad enough that they were spitting out little Snapes now, who were going to be running around underfoot all the time? Did they have to sit out in public like this, and go on with that gushing romantic rot? They were supposed to be adults. Why didn't they act like it, and keep that stuff to themselves? Other people didn't want to have to listen to them exchanging silly pet names, when they had better things to do, like find a date for the Yule Ball, for instance. Even Snape, the old Bat, had found someone. Why couldn't he? Bloody hell, it was annoying!

"Mr. Weasley..." Snape halted him, immediately putting on his imperious Potions Master voice. "Come here, if you please."

"Yes, sir." Ron flinched and obediently shuffled over to the table, as Harry and Hermione stood back waiting for him.

"What was that impudent comment again, Mr. Weasley?" 

"Well…I…er…" 

"He said we make him want to throw up," Welkin said helpfully, smiling sweetly at Ron.

"Is that so? Well, perhaps your delicate stomach will be improved by a day’s detention, starting first thing tomorrow morning."

"But it’s the Yule Ball tomorrow night, sir! I have to have time to get ready!" Ron protested.

"Yes, and once again, I doubt that you have overcome your regrettable and pathetic awkwardness, and managed to invite anyone, so it certainly will be of no great loss to you. There will be no one to impress with your sartorial splendor," Snape said snidely.

"Don’t do that to him," Welkin pleaded. "Can’t you just deduct house points instead? You have a date, don’t you, Ron?"

"Well, no…not yet…but I was just going to ask someone. That’s where I was headed…to ask…" He stopped, not able to think of a likely name.

"What about you, Hermione? Who are you going with?" Welkin asked unexpectedly. 

"I haven’t really thought about it, Mrs. Snape." Hermione looked flustered. Harry stood at her side looking amused.

"What are you smirking at, Mr. Potter?" Snape snapped him out of his comfort zone.

"Nothing, sir," Harry said a little too curtly. "Nothing at all." 

"Well, then...maybe Hermione and Ron should go together," Welkin suggested. "You’re friends, aren’t you? You’ll probably have more fun if you go with a friend. None of that awful romantic pressure, you know, that sometimes makes you do things you might regret later," Welkin said, looking pointedly at Hermione. "And my name’s Welkin, remember? You don’t have to call me Mrs. Snape," she added, subtly letting Hermione know that all was forgiven.

Hermione looked relieved. If Welkin had forgiven her, then maybe Professor Snape would too, and eventually ease up the pressure on her in his class. She had been upset before when he didn't take notice of her in class, and now she was just as upset when he did.

"There’s something to that," Ron agreed. "There’s no rule says you can’t go with a friend." He looked at Hermione. "What say we all three of us go as chums?"

"I _have_ a date, thank you," Harry said. "But I’ll see you both there." 

"Well, I guess it’s just you and me then?" Hermione asked Ron. 

"Yeah?" Ron looked a little shocked. "I mean yeah - _it is_ \- you and me," he asserted. 

Ron turned back to Snape. "I’m escorting Hermione to the Yule Ball," he said firmly, his pride hurt by what Snape had said about his inability to get a date. "I don’t think you should punish her for something I said."

"A valid point, Mr. Weasley. No detention then." 

Ron heaved a sigh of relief and turned to leave. 

"However...ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor for your insolence," Snape continued smoothly. "Please learn to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Mr. Weasley. I am well acquainted with your parents, and I should not like to have to inform them of your churlish behavior, as I hold them both in the highest regard."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, and turned to leave again. "Oh, and sir - that was _brilliant_ the way you trounced Lucius Malfoy at my mum and dad’s party. He’s had it coming for years!" He hurried away with his companions before Snape could respond.

Welkin laughed at the startled look on Snape’s face. 

"Does everyone know about that?" He looked vaguely embarrassed. 

"He was there, remember? But, of course they do, Severus. We’re the hottest gossip item making the rounds at Hogwarts and in Hogsmeade right now. Everybody’s just waiting to see what crazy thing we’ll do next. But that’s okay. It’ll just serve to reinforce our little dramatic scene at the Malfoys, if Voldemort gets wind of it, don’t you think? Lucius was actually fooled too. He asked me if I had left you because of the beatings."

"I suppose." Snape agreed hesitantly. "But my dignity…" 

"Is still intact, my big, strong _Tigerman_. Don’t you worry about that," she teased. "Make a muscle for me, you _animal_ you. I want to see what makes you the terror of social events everywhere. Do you think we’ll ever get another party invitation?"

"That is not amusing, Welkin." Snape frowned. "I have cultivated my image…"

"You actually _cultivated_ that image?" Welkin interrupted. "I thought it was an unhappy accident of your prickly personality." She grinned to let him know she was only kidding.

Snape continued to frown at her. 

"Oh, don’t be like that, Sevvy," she cajoled him. " I _like_ your prickly personality. You know I was only teasing. Have a piece of my chocolate cheesecake. It’s really delicious." She sliced off a piece with her fork, but used her fingers to offer it to him.

"No. I don’t want cheesecake," he said petulantly. He avoided the tempting morsel by turning his head slightly. He looked just like a great big pouty baby, trying to avoid being spoon-fed, Welkin thought fondly. It was highly amusing.

"Oh, come on, eat it. You do _too_ want it. You know you do." She thrust her fingers at him again as he tried to avoid her. "Please?"

"Oh, very well! Anything to make you cease this foolishness!" Snape opened his mouth and let her thrust the delectable morsel inside. Despite himself, he couldn’t help sucking on her fingers slightly as she withdrew them.

He chewed and swallowed reluctantly. She was right. It was delicious. 

"I do not know why I let you treat me in such a disrespectful way in public venues," he complained, even though he didn’t really feel that put upon.

"Because, I’m your _Druid Enchantress_ ," Welkin said confidently. "I have you under my spell."

She had a point, Snape thought. What the hell. His reputation was down the loo anyway. He leaned over to give her a lingering kiss, to the consternation of a small group of third year Slytherin students seated a few tables away, who wondered what in the wide world of Merlin had come over their normally taciturn head of Slytherin House.

* * *


	29. Yule Ball Redux 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin sings at the Yule Ball, to mixed reviews, and offers Narcissa Malfoy some advice about handling Lucius and his wandering eye. Snape takes the lead to add to their mutual quest for interesting trysting spots at Hogwarts.

* * *

"I don’t remember this shindig being this boring last year, do you?" Welkin asked Snape. She casually sipped her champagne while glancing about the room, then set down her glass and leaned back against the bar, stretching her arms along the front of it.

"The Yule Ball is just as exciting for some of the _men_ this year, I am sure, since your so-called dress lacks both a back, and the entirety of the bottom half," Snape observed with annoyance, taking another drink of his whisky.

"Oh, dear God, _please_ don’t start _that_ again, Severus," Welkin groaned. She took her arms off the bar and slid next to her routinely disgruntled husband. It wasn’t that she minded Snape’s jealousy and possessiveness _all_ of the time. It was quite flattering sometimes - until he took it to extremes.

"Must be awfully difficult to drink that whisky through gritted teeth," she said, trying to tease him out of his bad mood.

Snape glanced sideways at her and took in the sight of her bare legs, exposed almost up to the crotch by the short skirt of her pewter silver- toned dress with long, flared, sheer black sleeves. Welkin’s narrow feet were encased by ankle-length, slightly pointy-toed black boots with short silver and black metallic heels. The fold-down tops of the boots were studded with hematites, the same material as her earrings. Like last year, the neckline of the figure-skimming dress was modestly dipped in front, but daringly bare in the back. The only element of bright color which Welkin had added was a large, green gemstone snake pin worn to the right of her neckline, and Snape’s snake bracelet around her left wrist.

"I didn’t wear this outfit to attract other men, and you know it," Welkin repeated for the second time since they’d arrived. "I wore it because Professor Flitwick asked me to sing tonight, and it fits my song selections. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to arrange for the Muggle music I asked for, and I don’t want to let him down. You should think of this as more of a costume than a dress. Besides, this party could use a little livening up, if you ask me. The students are practically falling asleep on their feet, now that the other band went on break."

"I do not fathom a reason why your song selections could possibly require you to dress so revealingly," Snape grumbled. "We were not married last year when we attended the Yule Ball and you wore your backless dress. This year, we are married, and you are the mother of my child. You should dress accordingly."

"I don’t see the logic in that argument at all," Welkin told him, putting one arm around him to rub her hand against the small of his back soothingly.

"Other men will not be contemplating your tenuous grasp of logic when they are viewing you in that outfit tonight," Snape sniped at her, still looking sullen and unhappy. It wasn't that he mistrusted Welkin. It was more that he mistrusted other men and their motives where she was concerned.

"Most men don't even _like_ me that much, Severus, much less lust after me. That's a figment of your imagination. Most men prefer somebody a little more subdued and...delicate. The kind that would rather die than let one vulgar word escape their ladylike lips, or heaven forbid, a fart or a belch ever erupt from their pristine, overly sanitized and descented bodies. I scare the shit out of most men, to be honest. You don’t have any problem with me dressing revealingly when it suits you," she pointed out. "Those nightgowns you’ve been buying me lately have been getting shorter and shorter - and so sheer I might as well be naked most of the time. They leave very little to the imagination - not to mention the multiple pairs of crotchless silk panties you came back from Hogsmeade with today. I didn’t even know that they _had_ those in Hogsmeade! You certainly have gotten over your embarrassment of purchasing lingerie for me!"

"Those knickers are very…practical and efficient," Snape told her, attempting to justify his purchase of so many of them for her in a rainbow of colors. "You are always complaining to me that I rip too many of your undergarments in my desire to bed you. The convenient and accessible openings may prevent some of that," he reasoned.

Welkin grinned at his self-serving description of crotchless panties as _'practical'_. He was so cute when he was pompously trying to defend one of his own illogical viewpoints, she thought fondly.

"Besides, that is entirely a different circumstance," Snape continued with exaggerated dignity. "You are wearing those things for me, in the privacy of our bedchamber. I would prefer that you not dress quite so provocatively in public. Particularly with Lucius Malfoy here tonight." Snape stopped talking and stared in the direction of Lucius, who was seated at a table with Narcissa, Draco, and Draco’s date.

"Lucius is not going to do anything tonight. He’s got Narcissa with him, hasn’t he?" Welkin asked.

Snape didn’t answer and continued to frown. 

"I said, _hasn’t_ he?" Welkin repeated her question insistently, kissing him on the cheek to encourage a response.

"Yes, he does have his wife with him," Snape begrudgingly admitted. "Narcissa is dressed very _conservatively_ , I might add, as befits a married woman. Despite what I might think about his lack of morality where it extends to other men’s wives, Lucius does appear to have the respect he is due from his own wife," Snape pointed out.

"Don’t you kid yourself, Severus Snape. That’s not respect. That’s slavish devotion. You wouldn’t want me that way, would you? In your heart, you know that’s true. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun being married to me if I was like that."

It was true, although Snape was sometimes reluctant to admit it. He loved his Welkin as much for her inability to be completely tamed and domesticated, as he did for all the other wonderful things that she was to him.

"No, I wouldn’t," he admitted, and finally stopped frowning. 

Flitwick was on the bandstand announcing Welkin, much to the annoyance of _The Weird Sisters_ , who were not used to sharing their venues with other musical acts.

"I’ve got to go," Welkin said. She finished her champagne before whispering in Snape’s ear. "Guess what I’m wearing underneath my dress? I’ll give you a clue. They’re black, and silky, and split up the middle. When I’m finished with my set, would you like to go find a place you can try them out, and see just how _efficient_ they are?" She kissed him full on the mouth, and hurried off towards the stage, glancing behind herself at him just once to see his reaction, as he stood there open-mouthed.

Welkin bounded up on stage as some unfamiliar Muggle music began, and went right into her first song, strutting across the platform as she sang a Pat Benatar anthem, _Hit Me With Your Best Shot_.

By the time the song was over, a lot of the Hogwarts students in the crowd were up front, close to the stage again, as Welkin launched into her rendition of Peter Gabriel’s _Steam_. She followed that one with Donna Summer’s _Hot Stuff_.

Unfortunately, Flitwick had not heard the lyrics for any of Welkin’s chosen Muggle tunes, including this one. His exposure to her singing before this had been when she had joined his chorus during practice on the occasional melodic tune. His eyes widened now in panic, and he looked around for Dumbledore nervously as Welkin sang the overly suggestive lyrics of _Hot Stuff_ with a hip-thrusting intensity.

She followed that with one of her favorite INXS songs, _Need You Tonight_ , which was somewhat less suggestive, but not much less, in Flitwick’s opinion.

  
_So slide over here_  
And give me a moment  
Your moves are so raw  
I've got to let you know  
I've got to let you know  
You're one of my kind

_I need you tonight_  
'Cause I'm not sleepin'  
There's somethin' about you boy  
That makes me sweat…*   


By the time Welkin launched into Aretha Franklin’s _Respect_ , loudly dedicating it to " _my husband, Severus Snape,_ " Flitwick’s face was bright red, the Weasley twins had climbed onto the stage and were dancing energetically with Welkin, and Severus Snape was watching all of this with a quirky, amused smile, his annoyance at Welkin’s inappropriate attire nearly forgotten.

Unlike Flitwick, Snape was quite familiar with several of these songs, as Welkin had a habit of bursting into song and dance at the oddest moments, when something that happened reminded her of a particular tune. Not all of her tunes were sexual, but her style of singing made even the most innocuous song sound that way sometimes. Snape could have warned Flitwick about it, if only he had asked him. As it was, Severus was highly amused watching his diminutive fellow faculty member, and Hogwarts choir director, squirm with discomfort. Something told Snape that Welkin would not be asked to sing at another Hogwarts public function in the near future.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was not amused at all. When Draco and his date abandoned their table to join the throng in front of the stage, she was not pleased. She watched with increasing annoyance as Lucius sat entranced with that Welkin creature’s disgusting performance. Why, he was practically drooling on himself, she thought angrily. She could have strangled him.

Narcissa had run into Welkin Snape in the ladies' room earlier in the evening, and the brazen creature had actually had the effrontery to suggest to her that, if she would be more sexually attentive to her husband, Lucius might not be _'cattin’ around all over the countryside'_ as Welkin had so crudely put it. She had then proceeded to make some of the most impertinently specific suggestions on exactly what form that _'attentiveness'_ should take. Why, some of the things that woman suggested she do to, and with, Lucius were absolutely obscene! Severus Snape might be interested in receiving such disgusting things from _his_ wife, but not her Lucius!

"Lucius, I’d like to go home now," she told him, when she could stand no more of Welkin's discordant and vulgar harmonies. He didn’t seem to hear her. "Lucius!"

"What, Cissy?" he asked, finally coming out of his trance. 

"I _said_ , I want to go home…now!" 

"Well…I suppose…If you insist, my dear," Lucius told her, sounding more than a bit disappointed.

Just you wait until I get you home, Narcissa thought. I’m not putting up with this any longer. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do, but I’ve got to do something. Lucius Malfoy's _'cattin' around'_ days needed to come to an end.

* * *

Welkin rejoined Severus at the bar, a bit winded, but smiling happily. "What a workout! Did you like my dedication to you? _R-E-S-P-E-C-T,_ " she sang.

"I liked the part about whipping it to you," Snape told her, his eyes glittering at her dangerously.

"Why, Severus - your nostrils are absolutely _flaring_. You look like a bull about to charge," Welkin teased. "Whipping _what_ to me?" she asked innocently.

"Come along, Mrs. Snape," he replied, grabbing her hand, and a full bottle of champagne from behind the bar. He pulled her along with him out the door, as Welkin tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. Instead of leading her towards the dungeons and their quarters, he surprised her by heading for one of the side doors, pulling her outside with him, and down the row of parked carriages to the last one, which was secluded in the shadows cast by a large snow-covered tree that loomed over it.

Snape jerked open the carriage door, and pulled her inside with him. He pushed her back against the red velvet cushioned seatback. Before she could say anything, he forced open her legs and thrust the bottle between them, popping open the champagne, palming the cork to keep it from striking her. A strong stream of the bubbly spewed out forcefully, splashing and wetting her pussy lips, which were revealed by the slit in her black silk crotchless panties.

"That’s cold!" Welkin squealed. 

"Let me warm you!" 

Severus dived between her legs, and began to tongue her pussy, lapping up the champagne eagerly. Welkin gave a quick intake of breath, and spread her knees wider for him. Each time he licked her clean he would pour more champagne from the bottle over her rapidly engorging pussy lips and begin sucking and licking at them again.

When the bottle was half empty, he inserted his forefinger inside her, testing to see how slick with her own juices that she was. Withdrawing his finger, Snape brought the bottle up against the entrance to her vagina, and inserted the tip inside her. He worked it in and out, slowly inserting more each time, until the first four inches were inside. He twirled it, enjoying the sounds of her groans, and then began fucking her with it as he unzipped his trousers and withdrew his penis. He grasped her right hand, and placed it on his cock.

"Get it hard," he ordered her hoarsely, and she obediently began to masturbate him, feeling him harden and start to throb under her touch. "Make me hard so I can fuck you." Another minute and he was nearly fully erect. He quickly withdrew the champagne bottle from inside her, and with a groan plunged into her, spreading her knees wide with his hands and pumping in and out of her as she sat upright against the seat cushion, her head whipping from side to side as he battered her. "Harder, Severus," she urged. "Harder!" He slammed into her even harder and deeper, over and over again.

* * *

The prefect stood still, watching the last carriage in the row moving slightly back and forth. He frowned as he began to approach it, prepared to catch some hapless student couple in the act. Suddenly, a time-worn hand reached out of the shadows and halted him. "I think that I can handle this one," the headmaster told him.

"Professor Dumbledore! Are you sure?" the boy asked. 

"Quite sure," Dumbledore replied. "Run along now." 

Dumbledore walked up to the carriage, and leaned against it close to the door, folding his arms. He stayed that way until it stopped swaying. "Severus…Welkin? If you are quite finished in there, I suggest that you might want to adjourn to your quarters for the evening."

Inside the carriage, Welkin froze, then snapped her legs closed as Severus pulled out of her. "Oh, shit!" she whispered, looking at Snape wide-eyed. "It’s Albus! He’s going to skin us alive!" Snape hastily used the Scourgify Charm to clean himself, Welkin and the interior of the coach, and then tucked his softening cock back into his trousers. Welkin pulled down her dress. "Do I smell like pussy?" she whispered to Severus. "No, my sweet - not anymore," he whispered back.

They exited the carriage as calmly as they could manage. Snape got out first, turned, and offered his hand to Welkin to assist her.

"Well?" Dumbledore addressed them both. "What is the explanation this time? This is the second time this month you have been, shall we say, indiscreet in a public place."

"I don’t know what you mean. We were just having a private conversation, and the carriage seemed like a good place to do that," Welkin told him. Better for her to lie to Albus than for Severus to, she thought.

"Oh, really? That must have been quite a spirited intellectual exchange, considering that it had the carriage rocking," Dumbledore said astutely.

"Well…" Snape cleared his throat. 

"Oh, never mind, Severus. He obviously knows what we were doing," Welkin sighed. "It was all my idea, Albus. Don’t blame Severus. He didn’t want to do it in the carriage. I talked him into it. He just went along with it to please me." Welkin grasped Snape’s hand and squeezed it as she was lying, signaling him to keep quiet.

"Is that true, Severus?" Albus sounded like he was questioning two naughty children.

"No. It is not. I pulled Welkin into the carriage and had my way with her because I desired her, and I thought it would be…" Snape looked as if he were searching for the proper word.

"Fun." Welkin finished the sentence for him. She smiled up at Snape proudly. He might not be completely comfortable with admitting he was having fun, but he certainly did know how to. He had come a long way since they were first married. Welkin hoped to take him even further.

Much to his own surprise, Snape agreed with her assessment. He never used to do anything simply because he thought it would be fun to do it. Before Welkin became part of his life, there always had to be a well-defined purpose to things, other than it simply might be fun to do them. Welkin was teaching him that there were other things as important to living a full life as duty and responsibility were.

"Yes. I thought it would be fun," he agreed with Welkin firmly. "Fun and…exciting," he added, looking at Albus with a gleam of defiance in his dark eyes, as if daring him to censure him for that.

"So, there’s your answer. Now please stop harassing my husband, Albus. We _are_ married you know, and it wouldn't matter even if we weren’t. We’re _adults_ , whether you think so or not. We haven't done a thing to be ashamed of," Welkin said indignantly, as she wrapped her arm around Severus’s waist protectively.

"Let me remind you that there would be no need for my constant monitoring of your connubial activities, nor to remind you of the rules at Hogwarts concerning public displays of this nature, if you had only heeded my warnings the last six or seven times I quoted the rules to you. Remember, there are children about - impressionable minds that have to be shielded from your more impetuous adult impulses."

"We’ll try to do better, won’t we, Severus?" Welkin promised to show more restraint, just as she had every time they had been called down by Dumbledore for the same infraction.

"Which brings me to you, and your performance at the Yule Ball tonight," Albus said, focusing on Welkin.

"Did you like it?" Welkin asked, smiling hopefully at him. 

"I liked it quite a lot," Albus said. "Were it a party for strictly adults, I would say nothing. But do you really think that songs about…what was it again?…oh yes… _‘Hot Stuff’_ … are appropriate for these young students?"

"What’s wrong with _Hot Stuff?_ " Welkin asked, looking shocked, and a bit dismayed, that there should even be a problem. "It’s a fucking classic!"

"The words, paired with your rather suggestive gyrations come to mind," Albus replied, raising an eyebrow at her. _‘Want to bring a wild man back home’_ , he quoted an example. "Really, Welkin - how could you judge that to be appropriate?"

"But those kids loved it!" Welkin said defensively. 

"But some of their parents did not," Dumbledore informed her. "There were a few complaints. Thankfully, very few, as most of the adults seemed to enjoy it too."

"My wife is a very talented singer," Snape said proudly, and placed his arm around Welkin’s shoulders comfortingly. "What those dunderheads think about it is of no concern whatsoever to either of us."

"Oh, I quite agree, up to a point," Dumbledore said. "But to maintain harmony, and to keep poor Professor Flitwick from succumbing to a heart attack, in the future, please clear all song selections through my office."

Albus considered the matter closed. He glanced down and noticed the half empty bottle of champagne Snape was still holding in one hand. He waved his hand, and produced three glasses out of nothingness. "Shall we drink to our new understanding?" Albus asked, indicating the bottle expectantly.

Snape looked at Welkin with a _please-get-us-out-of-this_ look. He couldn’t serve Albus Dumbledore champagne from a bottle that had just been intimately involved with his Welkin’s love tunnel. The bottle was the only thing that he had failed to Scourgify and, no doubt, still tasted of Welkin’s private vintage.

"Oh, no! Not from _this_ bottle!" Welkin exclaimed. "We’ll get a fresh one. We…uh…just found this one in the carriage! You just can’t be too careful, you know. I mean, we’ve got no way of knowing _where_ it might have been!"

Or what it might taste like, Snape thought wryly.

* * *

Another boring evening at Malfoy Manor, thought Lucius Malfoy, annoyed that Cissy had seen fit to drag him away from the Hogwarts Yule Ball just as things were starting to get interesting. He sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace in his cavernous bedchamber, swirling the brandy in his snifter, playing over in his mind every deliciously saucy movement that Welkin had made during her performance tonight.

"What in hell does she see in him?" he fussed, wondering what Severus Snape had ever done to deserve having such a woman as that dropped into his lap. If only his own wife were that effortlessly provocative. It was no wonder that Snape had knocked him flat at the party at the Burrow. He was merely protecting his prize. Lucius had not expected it though. Severus had always been so deferential to him when they were younger. After his initial anger at being knocked down, Lucius had actually respected Snape for it, even though he certainly could have done without his interference with his pursuit of Welkin's juicy little quim. No matter. There would be other opportunities. He would make certain of that. Her continued rejection of him merely made him that much more determined. Rejection was not something Lucius was accustomed to, where women were concerned.

He went back to his ruminations and focused on his own wife. It wasn’t that Cissy wasn’t attractive, he thought. She was quite beautiful, actually. Many men thought so, and he was quite proud to squire her to the boring fetes that passed for local social gatherings. In public, she was perfection. It was in private that she lacked a certain _joie de vivre_ – a quality that Welkin had in abundance.

If only Cissy could be a little more like Welkin in private, they might still be able to make a go of it. As it was, Lucius could not even remember the last time that they had made love. He knew it must have been on one of those rare occasions when he had overdone it with drink in Hogsmeade, and gone home instead of bedding down with his most current paramour, or some random wench from the tavern.

On those infrequent occasions when he had stumbled his way to her bedchamber door asking for admittance, and she had actually opened her door to him, she had been dutiful, but cold and unresponsive. It had been like making love to the marble statue of some remote goddess.

Lord knows she had never approached him in his own bedchamber. She was obviously no longer interested in him sexually, if she ever had been – a fact which puzzled him, and injured his masculine pride. When he looked into his mirror, he still saw a handsome, powerful wizard in his prime of life – a man who any woman should be proud of, and eager to bed.

It was while he was lost in this self-pitying reverie that he heard a knock at his door.

"Lucius?" Cissy called out. "May I come in?" 

"Cissy?" Lucius rose from his chair, wondering what in the world could have brought her to his chambers so late this evening. No doubt, it was something about Draco. It always seemed to be something to do with Draco. He went to the door and opened it.

"What is it? Is it Draco?" he asked. He stood aside to let her enter. 

"No. Not about Draco. About us." Narcissa said bluntly. She glided into the room in her elegant dressing gown, and went to stand by the fireplace. "May I have some brandy?" she asked, noticing his half empty glass on the table by his chair.

"Yes, of course," he said, sounding surprised because she rarely drank more than a little wine. He retrieved a second glass, and poured her a small sip.

"A little more, if you please," she said. If she was going to do this, she was going to need a stiffer drink than that small amount he had apportioned to her. She would brook no more small servings from Lucius Malfoy while others less deserving got their cups filled to overflowing by him.

Lucius topped up the glass with a very generous amount of vintage brandy, which Cissy accepted and drained in two gulps. Lucius was alarmed when she asked for more, but poured a second drink anyway.

"Are you getting up the courage to ask me for a divorce?" Lucius asked her with a sneer, disguising his apprehension. He wouldn’t be at all surprised, considering all of the extra-curricular fucking he’d done over the course of their marriage. Narcissa was an intelligent woman, and she had to have known what was going on. He hadn’t even particularly tried to be discreet about it.

"Oh, I bet you’d _like_ that, wouldn’t you?" Narcissa started to pace as she drank more brandy. He noticed that her hair was down, loose and flowing, as she used to wear it when they had first met, and he had fallen madly and passionately in love with her.

"You’d like that, because then you’d be free to run after that…that…dreadful Welkin person! Well, I have absolutely no intention of divorcing you, so just get that idea right out of your head! I don’t see what you see in her. She’s so common! And besides, it’s perfectly obvious that she’s not interested in you. She’s only interested in Severus! Did you think I wouldn’t hear about that little fracas at the Weasley Christmas party? Which you _didn’t_ bother to tell me you were attending, by the way!"

"Cissy, you are spilling your brandy," Lucius told her, as she became more and more agitated as she paced.

She halted, and glared at him. "Then perhaps I’d better drink it, if you’re so damned concerned about your precious oriental rug," she said, and gulped down the rest of it. She walked over to the decanter and poured herself another.

"I don’t care about the damned rug!" Lucius told her. "I was merely pointing out…"

"Do you have any idea what sort of _depraved_ things that she does with Severus?" Narcissa ignored him and continued ranting. She began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace again. "Why, she puts his…his…male member into her mouth and she…she…sucks on it until he…oh, I can’t even say it! It’s just so _filthy!_ "

Lucius groaned. Oh, lord, if only she had not put that visual image into his head right now. Perhaps he’d better sit down in his chair before… too late… He felt his cock starting to respond as Cissy continued, completely oblivious to what effect she was having on him.

"She actually had the effrontery to suggest that you would want me to do that disgustingly sordid thing to you! Not only that, but she said I should let you do the same thing to me, either separately or at the same time. She said Severus enjoyed it quite immensely when they did it at the same time. She called it something ridiculous like…oh…what was it?....playing garter snakes, or…"

"Playing _hoop-snakes_ " Lucius corrected. He collapsed in his chair with a groan. 

"What’s the matter with you, Lucius? Are you ill?" Narcissa asked. She took another drink, and went off again before he could answer.

"She said Severus was exceptional at it, and she always enjoyed it so much that she…had a successful completion…at least two or three times each time he did it," she paraphrased. Welkin had actually used the phrase _'I come like a screaming banshee'_ , but Narcissa didn’t want to use such crude terminology.

God, how he wanted to masturbate right now! Lucius thought in agony. Cissy had no fucking clue! Even her overly coy descriptions were driving him crazy.

"Well, I told her that was the sort of thing that men went to prostitutes for, not their wives, and you would _never_ want me to do that sort of thing to you under any circumstance!" She finished her drink and paused, watching as Lucius squirmed in his chair. "She laughed at me, Lucius!"

"Are you sure you’re quite alright?" she asked again, this time with a hint of concern. Again, she didn’t wait for him to answer, but suddenly asked: "You _wouldn’t_ want me to do that sort of thing…would you?" The sash to her dressing gown had started to come loose, and Lucius suddenly noticed that she appeared to be…

"Cissy! Are you naked under that dressing gown?" 

"Well…I _might_ be," she told him coyly. Lucius groaned again. Was she deliberately trying to torture him to get back at him for his infidelities? That must be it. Surely she wasn’t here to offer herself to him.

"Welkin said that you might like it if I wasn’t always so buttoned up." Feeling the brandy, she raised a hand and stroked it across her lovely throat experimentally, liking the way her own touch made her feel.

"You didn’t answer me, Lucius," she told him. She ran her hand down her throat to her exposed cleavage, letting her long slender fingers rest there lightly.

"What? What didn’t I answer?" Lucius asked, distracted by the thought of her beautiful alabaster body underneath the dressing gown.

"I said, you wouldn’t want me to do something like that, would you? Play…hoop-snakes?" She had finally set down her glass and was standing still, right in front of him.

"Cissy! For God’s sake, _YES!_ " Lucius leapt to his feet, grabbing her and pulling her against himself. It was only then that she noticed his arousal.

"Lucius!" She loosened her sash the rest of the way and let her dressing gown fall to the floor. "Ravish me, Lucius!" she announced dramatically.

Ye gods, Lucius thought. This was too good to be true. He must be dreaming. But if he was, he hoped he didn’t wake up just yet.

Lucius Malfoy kissed his wife passionately, lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed.

* * *

"He’s a voyeur, that’s what he is," Welkin accused. "He’s been following us around all over Hogwarts, trying to catch us going at it. He’s just disappointed he didn’t catch us the rest of the times."

"Albus Dumbledore is not a voyeur," Snape denied. "He is nearly 150 years old, Welkin."

"What’s age got to do with it? Why do you think they call it being a dirty _OLD_ man?"

Snape shifted Sullivan in his arms as they walked along companionably, headed back to their quarters for the evening after their champagne toast with Albus.

"So, does this mean we’re never going to do it anywhere but our quarters?" Welkin asked glumly, obviously not happy at the prospect.

"Of course not," Snape reassured her. "It simply means that we need to try harder not to be discovered," he asserted to her pragmatically.

Welkin’s face lit up. "I know a really great place where we could…" 

"Not tonight, Welkin. Staging such an adventure twice in one evening would be foolhardy," Snape advised. "Perhaps before the New Year. I will assuage your disappointment after Sullivan is asleep tonight, by pleasuring you orally until you beg me to stop," he said matter-of-factly. "You will be quite exhausted, and I doubt that you will be able to respond to Sullivan’s need for you properly through the night, so I would suggest that you put some of your milk into bottles for me to feed him, before I proceed with my intense and prolonged pleasuring of you."

"You really are arrogant, and way too full of yourself sometimes. Do you know that?"

"It is not arrogant to know one’s abilities or to state them plainly. I am quite masterful at pleasing you sexually, as you have often pointed out, just as you are quite exceptional at pleasing me. I suspect that you are very wet now, just in the short amount of time that we have been discussing my plans to pleasure you. Am I not correct?"

"None of your business," Welkin told him crossly. He was too damn sure of himself after the party at the Burrow, when she begged his forgiveness for doubting him. She should never have apologized so profusely to him. He thought he was so fucking irresistible to her now, and was constantly teasing her and smirking about it. It annoyed her. Especially because it was largely true.

"Let me just check," he goaded, attempting to reach his unoccupied hand under her dress.

"Stop that!" 

"Stop what? Your mother is very nonspecific about some things, Sullivan," Snape reported to him. "It is quite maddening at times."

"Oh, shut up! Even Sully knows better than that, and he can't even form coherent thoughts yet. How’s this for specificity, Professor Snape? I specifically would like to kick your ass right now."

Sully opened his mouth and produced a loud cooing sound, stopping them in their tracks. 

"Oh, my God! Did you hear that? He’s trying to talk!" Welkin exulted. "He’s trying to say his first word! He’s brilliant!"

"That was not a word, Welkin. He is far too young. It was merely an indiscriminate sound."

"You didn’t think it sounded like a word?" 

"No, I did not. What word did you think it sounded like?" Snape asked her solemnly, as they stood in the empty hallway, regarding their child intently.

"Well…I wouldn’t swear to this, but I think it sounded like…" 

Snape was looking at her seriously, and expectantly. 

"It sounded like… _pussy_ ," Welkin whispered. She waited a few beats, until Snape finally realized he was being had, then she burst into raucous laughter.

* * *

Author's Notes: *Song attribution - _Need You Tonight_ , by INXS - written by Michael Hutchence, Andrew Farriss - Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing

* * *


	30. Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ministry confirms Welkin's ancestry. Citing a possible new threat, Dumbledore cautions Welkin and Severus again to maintain secrecy about it. Snape and Welkin reflect on the old year and make plans to usher in the new one in Hogsmeade.

* * *

"Do you know how many uses the Druids had for mistletoe? Too many to count, apparently. They attributed all sorts of miraculous powers to the plant," Welkin told Snape. She sat on the edge of their bed, perusing one of his Christmas gifts to her - a thick book about Druid culture, customs and magical tradition. It was a special edition that only existed in the Wizarding World.

"It’s amazing how much information is in here, including a lot about my supposed ancestor, Morgan le Fay. There isn’t a lot of reliable information known about the early Druids in my world. This is just fascinating. Thank you for this, Severus. This is my favorite gift of all the ones you gave me. It was sweet of you to get me something to teach me more about my heritage," Welkin said appreciatively.

"I am pleased that you approve of my selection," Snape told her. "Do you miss your Muggle world a great deal?" he asked. Snape had noticed that she still referred to the Muggle world as her world, and it concerned him.

Welkin considered his question seriously. "Not that much really. If I’m truthful, yes - some things I do miss - but not nearly as much as I thought I might. I guess this really _is_ my world now."

"I am happy that you feel that way," Snape told her quietly, feeling relieved. 

Welkin took off her reading glasses, put down the book and walked over to the chair where he sat, sensing that he was feeling a little insecure. He let her settle into his lap, and put her arms around his neck. "My world is wherever you are," she told him. _"You’re_ my world. Will you kiss me, my handsome wizard?" she asked him, engaging in their private ritual.

"Always with the greatest of pleasure, my sweet enchantress," he answered her, just before their lips joined in a lingering caress.

"Thank you for this year of great happiness," Snape told her when the kiss ended. "Thank you for Sullivan," he added solemnly. "You have given me back my life, and given life to our son. I love you, Welkin. Merry Christmas, my pet." His love for her soared in his heart, fierce as a falcon and gentle as a dove.

Welkin felt like crying suddenly, just because she was so happy. The love she felt for Severus was almost too much to bear. Her heart ached with it, and she felt if he said one more beautiful word to her, that it might burst.

"I love you more than anything in both worlds. I want you to know that I’m so happy and _proud_ to belong to you, Severus. I couldn’t ever wish for anything greater than that as long as I live - or for a better father for Sully." Her cheeks suddenly flushed pink. It was a rare sight where Welkin was concerned. It was also a very pretty sight, Severus thought, as he happily drew Welkin to him for another sweet, unhurried kiss.

* * *

"It has been confirmed," Dumbledore told them as they sat together with him at a table in the Great Hall, far enough apart from others that their conversation could not be heard. "There is no doubt of it. You are quite definitely the descendant of the legendary Morgan le Fay." He pushed Welkin’s grandmother’s journal across the table to her. "I am returning this. It should make most interesting reading for you now."

Welkin took the journal and stuck it in the side pocket of Sully’s diaper bag. "So, what exactly does this mean for us?"

"It means, my dear, that both you and your son are heir to a very powerful bloodline. Your son possibly even more so than yourself, since he also partakes of Severus’s bloodline, which is a powerful one in its own right. Do you remember your prediction when you were pregnant, Welkin?" Dumbledore asked her.

"Prediction? About Sully, you mean? I didn’t think of it as a prediction. It was just a feeling that I had that our son would be a very great wizard some day."

Snape looked at her with interest. "You predicted this?" 

"I don’t like to call it a prediction. It’s more a feeling of great certainty that I get about things at times. _Cooper’s Intuition_ , we used to call it in our family. Sometimes I just know things," Welkin shrugged.

"I must tell you that this news of your ancestry created quite a stir among the upper echelon hierarchy at the Ministry," Albus told them. "It is a bloodline that was thought to be extinct before this information surfaced. We will try to contain the news to a small inner circle. Voldemort must never know about it. As your dreams have warned you, Welkin, it would be most dangerous. He would seek to use you to attract new recuits to his ranks of Death Eaters at the very least, and to found a dynasty through you, at the very worst, as your dreams have indicated. In pursuit of such a goal, I am certain that he would try to destroy Sullivan to assure that only his son, and his alone, inherited the power and prestige transmitted through you."

"Not Sully!" Welkin gasped, shaking her head in denial. She moved Sully from her lap to her shoulder, and clutched him tightly. Severus pulled Welkin against himself and automatically placed a protective hand on his son’s tiny head. "I will let nothing harm either him or you," he told her calmly.

Welkin looked at him and felt her fear for Sully quickly subside. She believed in Severus, and she believed in herself combined with him. They were meant to be. Nothing could ever split them asunder, or truly harm them.

"Nothing can harm any of us. Together, we’re invincible, Severus. Voldemort can’t touch us," she told him.

Albus was glad to hear Welkin speak with such conviction. Hopefully, this was one of those instances she had spoken of as a feeling of great certainty about the future. He hoped that the invincibility she spoke of also extended to Harry Potter, who was the linchpin in his plan to defeat Voldemort.

* * *

"Sully really loves the stuffed toy snake that you got him for Christmas," Welkin told Severus. "He always turns his head towards it when I put it in the cradle with him, and he likes to put it in his mouth."

"He likes to put everything in his mouth," Snape said, not particularly impressed with Welkin’s news.

"True," she agreed, "but I think he knows that his Daddy got it especially for him, and that’s why he’s so crazy about it."

Snape looked skeptical. He lay on his side in bed, watching Welkin intently as she took off her robe and draped it over his chair, before sliding into bed next to him. He immediately gathered her into his arms. "I like to put things in my mouth too," he hinted.

"Yeah, how well I know it." Welkin laughed her throaty laugh as his hands began to rove over her. "I like to nibble on a snake every now and then myself," she admitted. "Don’t tell Albus, though. He’ll probably just want to watch. He’s Hogwarts’ resident voyeur, you know."

Snape tugged the neckline of her nightgown down, and grasped one of her breasts, massaging it firmly.

"Before you get too engrossed with that, we should talk about how we’re going to celebrate the New Year."

Snape stopped squeezing her breast briefly to consider their plans for New Year's Eve. "I think we should definitely make love," he announced. "It will start the new year out in an appropriate and propitious manner."

"I know you’re being facetious, but there really _is_ an old superstition that says that whatever you do on New Year’s day, you’ll be doing all year long."

"We should make love many, _many_ times then," Snape corrected his earlier statement. He abandoned her breast, slid his hand under her nightgown between her legs, and began to studiously massage her pussy with his long fingers.

"Severus!" she said, closing her thighs tightly, and trapping his hand. "Pay attention! I really _do_ want to make some plans."

"Open your legs, please," he said. "I am not finished."

"Not until we make some plans. I don’t want to stay in on New Year’s Eve this year. I want to go out someplace."

"Where would you like to go?" 

"Well, I want to see the fireworks display the Weasley twins are putting on in Hogsmeade, and have some drinks. What about that place they call the _Hog’s Head?_ "

"I do not think that would be appropriate," Snape told her. "We will go to _The Three Broomsticks_ if you wish, but certainly not the _Hog’s Head_. I am not taking my wife to such a disreputable place."

"What’s so disreputable about it?" Welkin asked, her curiosity immediately aroused. 

"The sort of people who frequent it are rather shady, and quite frankly, it smells," Snape told her. "It would offend your feminine sensibilities."

"Oh, you mean it’s a dive bar," Welkin said matter-of-factly. "I’ve been in plenty of those before, and my feminine sensibilities didn’t suffer at all. It sounds interesting. Can’t we please go?"

"No, my sweet. It would really not be wise. The men who frequent that place can be quite aggressive with attractive females."

"I’ll dress very conservatively, I promise - and I won’t leave your side at all. Please…please…please…please…please…"

"Welkin! Stop that!" Snape ordered, wrinkling his nose as he grimaced at her. "That repetitious whining is _most_ annoying."

"Well, if you don’t want to hear it again, say we can go to the _Hog’s Head_ then," Welkin told him stubbornly. She drew a deep breath, opened her mouth, and prepared to continue her chant.

"Very well!" Snape quickly relented. "I will take you there for one drink only. Then we will go to _The Three Broomsticks_."

"Okay," Welkin agreed, smiling at him. She obligingly opened her legs, and released his hand, then quickly dived on top of him.

"You appear to be somewhat pleased by your victory over me," Snape understated. Taking advantage of her new position atop him, he grasped her buttocks with both of his hands, and began to squeeze and knead them rhythmically as he kissed her throat. If he had been a cat he would have been purring.

"I wouldn’t complain, if I were you, ‘cause I’m just about to _fuck your brains out_ , you sexy wizard," Welkin informed him. To his great surprise, she waved her hand gracefully and the lights in their bedchamber suddenly went out, leaving only the flickering light from the fireplace.

"You did that without a wand!" Snape said, clearly astonished. "That is not possible. You have not progressed far enough in your studies to…"

She stopped him with a kiss. "Obviously I have progressed farther than you think." She smiled. "I’m a very talented woman, Severus - and a quick learner. You’d better not ever cross me. I have ways of dealing with presumptuous wizards who doubt my powers. You’d better make me come at least _three_ times tonight, or be prepared to suffer the consequences," she warned him in a husky whisper.

"You may be descended from Morgan le Fay," Snape told her, "but…" He suddenly grasped her firmly, and rolled over on top of her, forcing her arms above her head, and using his superior masculine upper body strength to pin her down. "I am still quite able to best you in any contest or arena, including this one in our bed tonight. You demand my sexual services, do you?" he asked her in a silken whisper. "Are you quite sure that you can handle them? Be careful what you wish for, Welkin," he advised her, his voice taking on an ominous tone that sent excited shivers through her.

"Prepare yourself, witch!" His mouth crushed hers ferociously, leaving no doubt in her mind what sweet agonies he intended to put her through before the night was over.

* * *


	31. Welkin at The Hog's Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape decides to collaborate with Welkin on a project she's suddenly taken an interest in. Severus takes her on a promised outing to the _Hog's Head Inn_ on New Year's Eve, where Welkin predictably creates a commotion.

* * *

"Wells? What are you doing?" 

Welkin looked up to see Severus standing in the doorway in his dressing gown, cradling a still sleeping Sully in the crook of his arm.

"Good morning, sweetness" she said, smiling. She brushed the hair out of her eyes with one hand, leaving a greenish smear across her forehead. "When did you decide to call me Wells? That’s my brother’s nickname for me. Just don't call me that when we're fucking, if you don't mind," she requested. "That would seem _waaay_ too creepy and incestuous."

"The shortened form of your name suits you," Severus said. "But it is too early to say good morning. It is only 5:45. What are you doing out of bed this early?" Severus had collected Sullivan and come looking for her when he awoke with his arms empty, Welkin having carefully extricated herself from his possessive grasp, which was his accustomed way of sleeping with her, and eased her way out of the bed without disturbing him.

"I had another dream and woke up. I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I got dressed and came out to the Potions Lab to work on something."

"Was the dream about Voldemort?" Snape asked her in a more serious tone. 

"No, not this time. It was about Dumbledore," Welkin told him, as she placed more of the dried plant she was crushing into her mortar. A large bottle of greenish powder, the product of her efforts, was beside the mortar on the table. Snape walked over to stand next to her, to observe what she was doing in the dim lighting.

"Dumbledore?" He took the pestle from her hand. "Tell me about it." 

"Well…there really wasn’t that much to it. I was standing in a corner in one of the towers here at Hogwarts. I’m not sure, but I think it might have been the Astronomy Tower. I could hear Albus, and some other people. The other people were shouting at each other, but I couldn’t hear everything they were shouting. I looked up and saw a flash of light and then…I saw Albus falling."

She frowned at him. "It was disturbing. I couldn’t go back to sleep. Do you think that Albus is in some kind of danger? Should I tell him? I’m not used to telling people these things, because they never usually believed me before. They just looked at me really funny, like I was crazy or something."

"Yes, you should tell him," Snape said thoughtfully. "The next time you see him," he added. "I do not think it is necessary to wake him."

Snape handed her pestle back and turned his attention to the dried plants on the table. "What is this that you are doing?"

"I’m crushing dried mistletoe with a few other ingredients. When I have enough powder I’m going to make a drink from it. Mistletoe has so many healing properties that I thought - why wouldn’t it make the best health drink ever? We’ll never be sick again!"

"We?" Snape asked. "Do you intend for me to drink this concoction of yours as well?" 

"It’s all in the name of magical mad science, Sevvy," Welkin grinned. "Don’t you want to be my guinea pig?"

"Not if it tastes as ghastly as I suspect that it will." 

"It won’t. I’m going to flavor it with something palatable. Unlike that nasty concoction of Professor Sprout’s that you forced me to drink while I was pregnant. That slimy green stuff tasted like sewer water!"

"Am I to presume from that comment that you are familiar with the taste of sewer water?" Snape teased. "I have not detected it on your breath recently, when I have kissed you."

"Oh, yes, I certainly am. In one of my past lives I was Christine Daae and I lived in the sewers of Paris with the Phantom of the Opera," Welkin said, spinning another of her fanciful yarns for him. "I don't know why, but I just seem to have this mad fixation on men who like to live underground. Sewers…dungeons…the next one will probably be an underground cave dweller. Have you seen the play, _Phantom of the Opera_?" Welkin suddenly changed direction on him in the middle of her stream of thought.

"No, I have not." 

"We’ll have to go into London and see it sometime. I think you’d like it. It’s very romantic, and very tragic."

"I like my romance a little less tragic these days," Severus told her. "Do not be too long. When Sullivan awakens, he will wish to be fed."

"Use the bottle. Didn’t you use the refilling charm?" 

"I forgot. I was otherwise occupied last night, if you recall." 

"Oh…yes, I remember it alright!" Welkin grinned. "How could I forget? You fucked me until I couldn’t see straight - and then you flipped me over, and fucked me some more. Maybe I should put some saltpeter in this stuff."

Snape frowned at her, hoping she was not serious. Though not familiar with the substance she mentioned, he suspected he knew what its intended purpose was, and he was thoroughly opposed to any such tampering with his freedom of expression of his ardor for her. 

"Just kidding, oh Lord and Master. You don't have to look so concerned. I would never do that to you. I like you just the way you are - perpetually horny." 

"You no longer object to that designation applied to me?" he asked.

"What? Perpetually horny? I never objected to calling you that," Welkin teased.

"No, Wells, I meant _Lord and Master_ ," he clarified. 

The more that Welkin told him about her family, and their stringent restrictions on her magical abilities, the more he understood her great need for freedom, and her initial puzzling and frustrating reluctance to even discuss his proposal of matrimony. Over her youthful years of girlhood, with the continual admonishments to repress her natural tendencies, Welkin had dutifully tried to suppress herself, not always with much success, and had begun to angrily associate marriage and family with the loss of her freedom. 

Severus understood that part of her now. Restrictions were another childhood thing they shared in common, although it had only been his father's dismal attitude he had to contend with, where it applied to his magical abilities, and not a family tradition centuries in the making, such as Welkin was born into. It always comforted him and gladdened his heart to think of how much she must truly love him to disregard all of her fear of her loss of independence, and to choose him when the decision was thrust upon her. 

"I don't mind you calling yourself that anymore, just as long as you know that I don’t really believe it." Welkin laughed. "Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be just another ten minutes or so, and then I’ll stop so that we can go to breakfast together."

Snape kissed his beloved renegade on the cheek. "Ten minutes, you said," he reminded her, knowing how she sometimes forgot the passage of time when she was engrossed in a project - much the same way that he did.

_'Health drink'_ , he thought rather dismissively, as he took Sullivan back to their bedchamber. Still, she was working very hard on it, and it was wrong of him not to be supportive, he realized. Welkin was nearly always supportive and encouraging of his projects, he had to admit. He especially enjoyed it when she wanted to watch him at work on a potion, seated close to him on her favorite high-backed stool. She told him once that she liked observing the _'fluid movements'_ of his hands as he worked. She would watch intently, asking him a ceaseless stream of questions. Of course, some of the questions had absolutely nothing to do with the project at hand, but a good number of them were quite astute observations and queries about his methods. The potions-making session nearly always ended in at least a heavy pre-coital petting interlude, if not outright fucking, which was a great motivator towards allowing her to observe him more often.

What was it she was working on again? Snape had gotten himself distracted by thinking about her. Her Druid-inspired _'health drink'_ idea. Yes, that was it. She had scribbled copious notes on it and first mentioned the concept to him several evenings ago, claiming the idea had come to her in one of her dreams, in which she had specifically seen him drinking it.

Mistletoe was quite an appropriate choice for the base of the powder, he mused, as he reentered their bedchamber with Sullivan, and seated himself carefully in the rocking chair that Welkin had acquired to help lull the baby to sleep at night. Severus found the motion of the chair quite relaxing on the evenings when he had been pressed into rocking duty. 

Yes, he should definitely be more supportive of her project, he decided, and not so automatically dismissive of it. Perhaps he could assist Welkin with refining the mixture of other ingredients to be added. It might be a fine project for them to work on together. Collaboration with her in the Potions Lab might be very fulfilling. Lord knows his collaboration with her in their marital bed always was.

"Good morning, Sullivan," Snape told his son, as his dark little eyes popped open to greet the new day. "Your mother is a very complex woman. Are you aware of that?"

Sully smiled, and cooed at him in agreement, as his father began the soothing backwards and forwards motion in the chair. 

Sullivan was one of his most successful collaborations with Welkin, he decided.

* * *

"Why did you receive this Owl from Narcissa Malfoy thanking you for your advice? What advice?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Just some advice on how to handle Lucius. Nothing to concern yourself about. Apparently it worked out well for her. I thought that it might. Men are so predictable sometimes," Welkin said smugly.

"Welkin, you are not giving Narcissa sexual advice are you?" Snape asked disapprovingly.

"Now, Sevvy, am I the type woman who would give unsolicited sexual advice to another woman who I barely know? Would you mind moving out of the way, sweetness? I can’t get to my jewelry box. What earrings should I wear to the _Hog’s Head_ with this _very conservative_ outfit," she asked, emphasizing the words very and conservative to him. She had promised not to dress revealingly if he would take her to the _Hog’s Head Inn_ for a drink on New Year’s Eve.

"Yes, you most certainly are. You are the type woman who might even feel inclined to _demonstrate_ sexual techniques to an entire roomful of strange women," Snape asserted.

"Is that your oblique way of calling me a slut, Severus Snape?" Welkin shoved past him, opened her jewelry box, and selected a pair of silver dangle earrings that ended in crescent moon pieces of moonstone. "If I’m a slut, then what does that make you for choosing me for your wife?"

"I am most certainly not calling you a slut, Wells. Why would you think that?" 

Welkin smiled to herself as she put in her earrings. "Face it - you’re just exhibiting that tired old double standard. It’s great for you if I’m a slut in your bed, but not if I express myself about sex freely in front of other people. Do you want to know something I’ve noticed about Wizarding World sexuality since I’ve been here?"

"I am certain that I shall hear it, whether I answer yes or no," Snape said with a sigh, walking away to sit down in his favorite chair.

"Women have nearly complete equality here, which unfortunately is still not something that a lot of women in the Muggle world have yet. But a good number of them seem a bit sexually repressed. Except for that Huldra Helliwell bitch, that is. I wanted to repress her ass plenty." Welkin paced back and forth like a tigress, waving her hands expressively as she argued her point.

"It’s like they’re sexual house-elves, and just don’t know what it is to be free about expressing themselves sexually. Well, let me tell you, Severus, you’d better believe that if I have the opportunity to help free even one of them, I’m not about to stand by and let them go through life just lying back and taking it like a dose of bad medicine. Sex should be enjoyed!"

"There is no need to belabor that point with me, Welkin," Snape interjected when she paused for breath. "You are, as the Muggle saying goes, _pontificating to the assembly_ ," he told her, pleased with himself for referencing the phrase. He had been studying American Muggle linguistics and idioms lately, and attempting to incorporate some of the more interesting phrasings into his speech.

"It’s _preaching to the choir_ ," she corrected, grinning at him. "But I understood what you meant to say." She walked over to him, and stood regarding him with one hand on her hip. "Do you know what you are, Severus Snape?" she asked him seriously.

" _Nooooo_ ," he looked at her warily. "What am I?" 

"You’re a slut lover. A great…big…sexy…slut lover, underneath that buttoned-up exterior of yours. Nobody except me would ever have expected it. I knew right away that you were, of course, and I knew how badly you wanted to jump my bones too," she claimed smugly.

"Oh? What gave me away?" he asked archly. 

"Other than that massive hard-on you kept trying to conceal from me at supper that first night? There was the sarcasm you directed at me. It was just so way out of proportion to the situation that I knew something was up - no pun intended. It seemed as if you were fighting against your desire for me, and trying to push me away, but trying to pull me in at the same time. It was like you used those rude words to test me, to see if I wanted you enough to see through all of that. It’s a good thing I wasn’t deterred by the harsh facade, or we might never have gotten together." 

She shook her head at him in puzzlement. "I don’t know how in the world a man with as much love to give, and as sensual as you are, went so long without sex, or touching somebody. Why in the world would you punish yourself like that?"

"I needed to have an object of desire worthy of my attentions. She had to be someone I felt more than strictly carnal desire for. I do not care for indiscriminate sexual coupling. Controlling my urges was the only option, given my personal preferences, and my ungainly personal appearance," Snape said. "And, the fact is..." Severus hesitated. "No one ever bothered to push past the surface. I was never... _important_ enough to anyone...before you," he said quietly.

Welkin smoothed a strand of stray hair that had fallen across his face. "You’re a very rare and precious commodity, as men go, do you know that?"

"Should I say no? That would not be truthful." He smiled at her with no hint of smugness. 

Welkin smiled back gently. What idiots all those other women had been, who had discounted this man so easily because he didn't fit the mold of what they'd been taught to love and desire. But if they hadn't been such idiots, she wouldn't have him now, Welkin reconsidered. So, God bless them for their blindness. Their loss was definitely her gain. 

After a few tender moments, she broke eye contact, and rather reluctantly came back to the practical realities of their plans for the evening. "How did we get off on this subject anyway? I’m ready to go to the _Hog’s Head_! Do I look conservative enough to you?" She was dressed very simply, in jeans and a sea-green cable-knit sweater.

"Your jean pants are a little snug, but the sweater is acceptable." 

"Alrighty, then. Sully’s in the North Tower with the nanny you hired for tonight. I don’t see why she couldn’t have stayed here with him; the other one did. The privacy issue, I know, but aren’t you taking that to an extreme? I mean, if we trust her with our son, can’t we trust her in our quarters?"

"No, we cannot," Snape said tersely. "She would probably be rifling through all of our personal effects the entire time we were out. Allowing the first nanny access to our quarters was not my misguided idea."

"You’re paranoid." 

"And you are entirely too trusting," he charged. 

"You’re a slut lover." 

"Ob-vi-ously," he said, finally getting the last word.

* * *

The eyes of several rather scruffy and scurvy looking _'gentlemen'_ at the bar focused on Welkin the second they entered the door at the _Hog’s Head Inn_. Snape steered her to a table as far away from them as possible, and played the gentleman himself, pulling out her seat for her, after she took off her bomber jacket, and hung it on the back of her chair.

"Boy! You weren’t kidding about this place. It’s a real dump," she told him. "Is that a goat over there chewing at the windowsill?" She laughed as he turned his head to look. "This place is great!" Welkin was grinning from ear to ear.

"What’ll ya have?" The waitress regarded them with a long-suffering attitude. "They’s a two drink min-mum, luv," she added loudly.

"We are only here for one drink," Snape told her, drawing a blank, bored stare from her.

"That’s okay," Welkin interrupted. "We’ll have both of our drinks in one tall glass if you have it. We’ll both have a double firewhisky."

"I did not want two drinks," Snape said, after the waitress left. 

"They’s a two drink min-mum, luv," Welkin parroted. "I don’t think we have a choice."

"What if I did not want firewhisky?" Snape asked, somewhat peevishly. 

"I don’t think it would be wise to order anything _but_ firewhisky in here, unless we want to get our asses kicked. This looks like a pretty rough crowd," Welkin asserted. "I bet those guys over at that table in the corner are Death Eaters. They _look_ like Death Eaters. They’re all dressed in black, and have that slicked back hair, and shit. Not a smile to be had at _that_ table. Are those guys Death Eaters, Severus?"

"Please stop saying Death Eaters so loudly, Welkin," he hissed at her, ignoring her question. "This establishment is even worse than I remember it," Snape agreed. "We should finish our drinks quickly and leave. I do not think you should be here."

"Oh, relax. Just be friendly, and mind your own business if a fight breaks out, and people will leave us alone, I hope. Severus, I would swear that that man behind the bar that the waitress was just giving our orders to looks like…"

"Albus Dumbledore?" he finished for her. 

"Yes! I swear if he was cleaner, and his hair was trimmed, he’d look enough like him to be his brother!"

"He _is_ his brother," Snape told her. "Aberforth Dumbledore, Albus’s younger brother, is the owner of this _august_ establishment," Snape said snidely.

"He’s looking at us." Welkin lifted her hand and waved cheerfully at Aberforth. 

"Welkin! Do not do that! Do not attract attention to yourself in any way." 

They were interrupted by the return of their waitress, bearing their drinks on a battered looking tray with several other people’s orders. "Ab-ferth sayes it’s on the house fer you’un Pro-fes-sor Snape, an he sayes he's cocked his'n eyes on you's two. He'll throw you's out a'gin if'en he has 'ta," she informed Snape with a warning glare. "I put you’s drink in a clean glass 'cause I can sees you’s a lay-dee," she told Welkin, a little more pleasantly.

"Thank you so much. And please thank Mr. Dumbledore for us," Welkin told her, giving her an overly generous tip. The waitress smiled over her tip, and Welkin noticed she was missing a few of her side teeth.

"I’s a _lay-dee_." Welkin leaned across the table and sneered at Snape when the waitress left again. " _You’s_ glass is dirty, but _I’s_ got a clean glass," Welkin teased.

"This place is infested with vermin. I doubt very much if that glass is clean," Snape said wryly.

"That’s okay, the firewhisky will act as a disinfectant," Welkin sniffed, taking a big gulp of her drink. "Oh, baby, oh, baby! I forgot how _strong_ this stuff is!" she said appreciatively.

Welkin continued checking out the rest of the clientele as she enjoyed her drink. "Mamie would have loved this place," Welkin told Snape. 

"Mamie?" 

"My grandmother - the one who wrote the journal. She was kind of a renegade when she was younger. She liked places like this," Welkin repeated. "Which reminds me - did you take her journal out of Sully’s diaper bag and put it up for me someplace? I was going to read some of it the other day and I couldn’t find it in there where I put it."

"No. I did not. Are you sure it is missing?" 

"Well, maybe I took it out and just don’t remember it. I was looking for it after the new nanny dropped off Sully the other day. It probably just slipped down in the side pocket and I didn’t notice it. I’ll look for it again tomorrow."

Welkin took another big gulp of her drink. "Oh, look. They have a piano player," she said to Snape, pointing out the tall, thin, blond man who looked to be in his early 30’s.

The man put out a large tip jar on top of the piano, sat down at the keyboard and immediately began to play some popular Wizarding World standards, much to Snape’s surprise. That was certainly something new here. The only music Snape ever remembered hearing here before was the harsh cacophony of the occasional drunken duet of some of the customers deep into their cups after too much firewhisky.

Snape stared at the piano player. Something looked vaguely familiar about the man. Eventually he gave up trying to decide where he might have seen him. He probably just had one of those nondescript faces that reminded one of somebody else.

* * *

Snape paid for the third round of drinks that Welkin insisted on having before they left. The second round had been singles instead of doubles, but Welkin seemed to be feeling the firewhisky quite a lot already, having not bothered to eat anything before they left Hogwarts.

Welkin began rattling on about the time her grandmother had posed nude for an itinerate artist who came through their town one summer and stayed for awhile. He had stayed until her grandfather, who was 'sparking' Mamie at the time, took him out drinking at the local watering hole, and not so subtly told him his departure should be imminent, otherwise he was going to castrate him with a rusty butcher knife.

Snape winced when Welkin promised him a similar fate if he ever was unfaithful to her.

"I’m serious, Sezerus…Seserus…Sev-e-rus!" She repeated his name the third time more carefully, giggling when she got it right. "I’ll slice ‘em right off and put ‘em on a skewer - jus’ like a shiskabop! I’m not Narcissiettia Malfoy, you know. I won’t put up with that bullshit like she does! ‘Cause I _love you_ , baby! I really, really, _really_ do! I know you wouldn’t do me that way! Gimme a kiss!"

Welkin leaned over the table and grabbed him around the neck, locking her lips to his demandingly. The other clientele at the bar began to hoot and cheer. "Go get 'im girly!" one of the older gents shouted.

"Welkin! Control yourself!" Snape admonished her, after breaking the vise-grip she had around his neck. "Get your jacket. We are going home."

"Booooo….boooooo!" Somebody jeered, as Snape forced Welkin into her jacket while fending off her amorous advances. "What’sa matter buddy? Can’t ya handle her? Give her to me, then. I know what she needs."

"Don’t you _booooo_ my husband!" Welkin warned. "I’ll have you know that _THIS MAN_ ," she pointed dramatically to Snape, "can out- _FUCK_ and out- _FIGHT_ any man in here! And that goes for that whole damn table of _FUCKING_ Death…" 

Snape quickly clapped a hand over Welkin’s mouth to shut her up, stifling the beginning of her rant about the supposed Death Eaters she had spotted earlier in the evening.

"Come along, Welkin. We are leaving now," he told her evenly, after he removed his hand from her mouth.

"But, Sev-e-rus," she said carefully, "I haven’t finished my drink yet." She started towards her chair to sit back down.

"Hey!" she shouted, as Snape swooped her off her feet, and threw her over his shoulder.

"Go get 'er boy!" the same old gent at the bar shouted. 

"They’s rooms upstairs if ya fancy ‘avin a go at yer lay-dee," their waitress told him helpfully as she was passing by with another full tray of drinks.

"Rooms? Are we going to fuck now? Praise the Lord!" Welkin shouted, as Snape made a hasty retreat out the door, nearly falling over the goat, which had stationed itself near the entrance to nibble at the post-holiday greenery still partially attached to the inside of the front door.

When they were far enough away from the _Hog’s Head_ , Severus found a bench and cleared it of snow, before sitting down with Welkin in his lap. The midnight chimes went off, and the Weasley twins’ fireworks display rocketed overhead at the same time.

"What _beautiful_...fireflies. Happy New Year, Sevvy," Welkin said, confusing the word for fireworks in her head. " _You're_ beautiful," she told him admiringly, patting his cheek with her hand. "More beautiful than _any_ firefly I've _ever_ seen." She offered her lips for a kiss, obviously oblivious to all the commotion she’d just caused at the bar.

Snape couldn't help smiling at her, despite himself. He should have been angry. He should have lectured her. What was he to do with her? She was so troublesome at times, but he loved her to distraction. Snape sighed, and gave her the kiss she expected. "Happy New Year, Wells." To be fair, she really wasn't _that_ troublesome, _that_ often. Was she? No, she usually wasn't, he decided. He smiled again, and then gave her the kiss she _wasn't_ expecting.

* * *


	32. Welkin and the Pink Piranha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The missing journal resurfaces. Welkin bluntly airs her dislike of Dolores Umbridge. Snape is appalled and embarrassed by an unanticipated development in their love life.

* * *

"Here it is!" Welkin held up her grandmother’s journal to show Snape. "It was in the diaper bag all along, I guess. Funny though - I could have _sworn_ that I put it in the other side pocket."

Snape frowned, not as willing to attribute it to a simple mistake on Welkin’s part. What if someone had taken the journal from the bag, and then returned it to the wrong pocket without realizing it. Who would have had the opportunity?

He automatically discounted Luna and Minerva as suspects. Even if they had found the journal, Snape was certain that neither of them would have disturbed it. That only left the new nanny, who had sworn to Welkin that she had not known about any such book, before it mysteriously reappeared today.

The agency in Hogsmeade had said Hortense Huffington’s papers were all in order, but papers could be forged. Snape determined that he would personally investigate the woman. He would not have an unreliable and deceitful person attending to his son, and rifling through Welkin’s personal property.

* * *

"Happy New Year, Albus," Welkin greeted him, as she, Sully, and Severus joined him at his table in the Great Hall. Because most of the students were not expected back at Hogwarts until tomorrow, Albus had dispensed with sitting at the head table in favor of a table in the student section.

"It would have been happier if Dolores Umbridge hadn’t returned from holiday a day early," Dumbledore replied.

"I can’t _stand_ that woman!" Welkin took the opportunity to complain about her again. "She does terrible things to the students in detention! Somebody should kick that woman’s ass!"

"I quite agree," Albus said. "But she has powerful connections at the Ministry, so her ass, as well as the rest of her, must remain unmolested for the moment."

"Her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes are a joke," Welkin continued. " The kids say they aren’t learning a thing in there that they couldn’t learn out of a book, and the things they do learn from the books, she won’t let them practice. That’s why so many of them come out to watch you and me practice dueling now. They’re not getting it in her class. Severus would make a better teacher in that class _wandless_ than she does _with_ a wand!"

"Ahem, ahem…" Albus closed his eyes wearily at the sound of Dolores Umbridge faking her little cough to get his attention.

Speak of the putrid pink devil and she doth appear, Welkin thought with annoyance, staring at the squat little woman smiling at them like a benign little polyp, when everyone knew she was really a malignant tumor that needed to be excised from Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Albus… _Severus_ …" Umbridge gave Snape’s given name a slightly more lilting inflection, and then gave Welkin a strained smile, but didn’t verbally acknowledge her. "I’m sure you won’t mind if I join you at your table." She seated herself before anyone could protest. "My, isn’t this cozy?" she remarked in her little girl voice, punctuated by an annoying little giggle.

"I think I just lost my appetite," Welkin whispered to Snape, just loud enough to make sure Umbridge heard her.

There was a flash of anger in Umbridge’s eyes before she reined it in. "Oh, I see you have your baby with you," she continued in her syrupy way. "Awfully… _quiet_ , isn’t he? Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. It doesn’t _always_ mean that there’s anything the matter. And even if there was, Albus is very liberal about those things. There will always be a place at Hogwarts for even the _least_ talented magical child."

"Why, you sadistic…revolting little…pink troll," Welkin said slowly and venomously. "Hold Sully," she said as she quickly passed him to Severus. "I’m going to kick this demented little sociopath’s ass myself." She was out of her seat and reaching for her wand when Albus called her down, putting a hand on her arm to stop her.

"I cannot allow this, Welkin. Do not draw that wand. Much as I might sympathize with the reason you are incensed, I simply cannot allow it. Please respect my wishes and reseat yourself."

"Please, Welkin," Snape agreed. "Her opinion of our child is of no importance. No importance at all," he emphasized, with a dismissive look at Umbridge. "Do not let it disturb you. Please sit down as the headmaster wishes."

Dolores smiled her fake smile. "Oh, I really didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sure your child will be very talented, despite his Muggle heritage." She gave Welkin a look of sympathy.

"Albus, I'm afraid that we will not be taking breakfast with you this morning," Welkin told him through gritted teeth. She retrieved Sully from Snape. "You _are_ coming with us, aren’t you, Severus?" she asked tersely. 

"I will be delighted," he answered, ignoring Umbridge completely.

Umbridge watched them stalk off, then turned to Dumbledore with that smile that made Albus grit his own teeth.

"Well, as I said - isn’t this cozy?" Dolores gave that maddening high-pitched titter of hers again, as Albus pictured placing his hands about her throat and throttling her into silence.

* * *

"I swear, I just wanted to knock that simpering smirk right off her ugly toadish face! I don’t see how you can be so calm about it. She sat there and insulted Sully right to our faces, the cunt!"

Welkin obviously felt strongly about this, since the only other woman who Severus had ever heard her call a cunt was Huldra Helliwell. She reserved the insult for only the most egregious cases of her loathing.

"Sullivan is the injured party, and he does not appear to be concerned," he pointed out. Snape sat with his arm around Welkin, as Sully calmly nursed at her breast. "It has not harmed his appetite at all, and neither should it harm yours. Have another grape, my sweet." Snape popped another sweet red grape into her mouth, as much to stop Welkin’s ranting, as to provide her with some source of nourishment, since they had both missed breakfast.

Welkin chewed and swallowed, still frowning. "What’s _wrong_ with those people at the Ministry anyway? Making her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts was insane. Can’t they see what kind of a person she is? That little troll _hates_ children - probably because they’re all taller than she is! Fucking pink piranha! If she had any children of her own, she’d probably eat them!"

"Umbridge has power and connections within the Ministry, and you and I, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix, cannot afford to interfere with her openly. Do you understand that, Welkin?

"But, I thought the Order of the Phoenix opposed Voldemort? What does the Ministry, or Umbridge, have to do with Voldemort?"

"We believe the Ministry has been infiltrated with agents of Voldemort. Umbridge is believed to be one of those."

"That little troll? An agent of the Dark Lord, Voldemort? I’d laugh if it wasn’t so horrifying," Welkin said.

"Do not laugh. She is a very dangerous woman, despite her appearances. I do not wish you to goad her in any way. Do you understand, Welkin?" Snape asked her again.

"Yes. I do understand now. I won’t do anything overt against her. God! How have you done this so long? And kept it all to yourself? My poor Severus," she said, looking at him sorrowfully.

"It is of no consequence," he said quietly. 

"Oh, yes it is," Welkin disagreed, stroking his cheek. "It’s of _great_ consequence to _me._ A _very_ great consequence." She tried to smile at him. "I want to help you, anyway that I can. I guess I could…maybe…apologize to her, if you think that would help. I don’t want her angry with you and jeopardizing your mission, just because I couldn’t hold my temper."

"Could you do that?" 

"Yeah. I could for you." 

"Then do so, but then give her a wide berth. Do not bring yourself to her attention in any way. If she were to discover your own secret, it would not be well for us."

"Oh, I’ll give her a wide berth, alright. She’s already got a pretty wide berth, if you ask me. Have you seen the size of that woman’s ass? Putting pink on an ass like that is tantamount to slapping a big ole _'Wide Load'_ sign on it."

"I would prefer not to contemplate Dolores Umbridge’s posterior, or any other portion of her anatomy," Snape told her.

"Well, I think she might have contemplated yours. There was a rumor going around last November that Umbridge had a thing for you," Welkin informed him.

Snape grimaced painfully. "That is not amusing, Welkin." 

"I know it isn’t," Welkin agreed. "I mean…she’s probably in her office right now, picturing you naked. God only knows what she’s doing to herself!"

"Are you deliberately attempting to upset me?" 

"No. Of course not." Welkin sat silently for a minute, accepting more grapes from Severus as he solicitously fed her. "I just wonder," she finally said.

"Wonder what, my sweet?" 

"I just wonder what kind of troll sex she pictures having with you." 

"Wells, that is enough. I do not wish to hear anything more about this topic. It is too disturbing."

"I bet she wants to get you naked on all fours, and ride you like a pony!" 

"Welkin! Do not tease me about this. I will not listen!" Snape got up and retreated to his desk. He sat there sulking as Welkin tried to apologize.

"Sevvy, I’m sorry. It was just a joke, sweetie. Come on back over here. I promise I’ll behave. I won’t say another word about the nasty little troll."

Severus opened a book and pretended to read. 

Judging that Sully was finished anyway, and wanting to make up with Severus for her thoughtless teasing, which had upset him more than she had realized, Welkin removed Sully from her breast, lifted him to her shoulder and patted him until he gave a little burp. She tucked him into his cradle and started the butterflies for him, then padded on bare feet over to Snape, where he sat studiously ignoring her.

"How long are you going to be mad at me?" she asked, making her voice lower and more seductive as she stood behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began to knead and massage them to relax him. "I really _am_ sorry, you know. I didn’t know it would upset you that much. I was just trying to be funny, Sevvy. Please forgive me."

He said nothing, but made no attempt to move away from her either. 

"I’m just a great big ole dunderhead to upset you after you were so sweet to me. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to have sex with me again." She paused to let that idea sink in.

"I do not believe that your infraction was quite so serious as that," Snape finally said. He knew what she was doing, manipulating him shamelessly using his desire for her, but he really didn’t care, as long as the end result of her game was sex.

Welkin leaned over him, her mouth against his right ear, and let her hands move over his chest in circular motions. "Do you _really_ forgive me, Sevvy?" She nipped his earlobe with her teeth lightly, then sucked on it with her mouth. Snape dropped his book and groaned. She rubbed the palms of her hands over the front of his jacket again and tongued his ear, whispering her question insistently into it. "Do you forgive me, Sevvy?"

_"Yeees_ ," he finally replied, and groaned again. He flung out his arm to send the few objects that were on his desk crashing to the floor, then jerked her in front of him and kissed her, forcing her down onto the smooth, dark wood surface of the desk. He pushed her sweater up and unzipped her jeans, working them down to her ankles as he continued kissing her. Welkin assisted him by drawing her sweater over her head and tossing it aside, as he pulled her jeans the rest of the way off. He reached around and unhooked her bra. She assisted him again by pulling down the straps and letting it fall away.

Welkin cupped her breasts and caressed them as Severus watched, his eyes straying to her pussy, exposed by the red crotchless panties he’d bought for her. Slowly he unzipped himself and pulled out his partially erect cock. Welkin licked her lips in excited anticipation, and allowed him to turn her gently until she was hanging off the edge of the desk. She opened her mouth wide, and he lowered his dangling cock into it. She slowly began to suck and nibble on it as he replaced her hands with his, caressing her breasts and teasing her nipples to a firmer state of erection.

Reaching out her hands, Welkin grasped the top of his trousers and worked them down. The snaps at the top of his boxers made simple work of lowering those as well. Sensing what she wanted, he removed his cock from her mouth and held it against his stomach as she began to nibble and suck on his balls. The pleasure was almost unendurable. He closed his eyes, and nearly shot his load on the spot. But no - sensing that he was about to come - Welkin stopped and slowly sat up. She slid off the desk and turned to kiss him, continuing her sweet assault on his mouth, letting his excitement cool just a bit. When he regained control of himself, she turned away and slowly lowered herself until she was leaning across the desk, her legs spread apart.

"Do it to me, sweet and slow," she requested. Welkin held her breath, waiting with anticipation until she felt the first tentative touch of his cock against her and then, she suddenly felt…nothing.

"Don’t tease me, Sevvy," she said. "I know I deserve it for teasing you about Umbridge, but please don’t." When Snape remained silent, she was puzzled. "Sevvy?"

"Wells," he finally said, sounding upset. 

"Sevvy, is something wrong?" She straightened up and turned to face him. There was a look of shocked surprise on his face as he looked at her, and then slowly back down at himself.

Welkin followed Snape’s eyes down to his crotch, and gave an involuntary gasp. " _Sevvy!_ " she said, looking as shocked as he did.

Severus Snape, the love of her life, easily the horniest wizard in the Wizarding World - the man who never failed to please her, any time of the day or night - was limp as a dishrag.

* * *


	33. Sins of the Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus is upset and distracted by his personal problem. Snape and Welkin try to protect their family when Sully is threatened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter also includes the non-canon character of Hortense Huffington.

* * *

"I do not _wish_ to try again, and I do not wish to discuss it further," Snape told her, refusing to look Welkin in the eyes.

"Don’t be embarrassed, Severus. If you can’t talk about it with me, who can you? I’m sure it’s just something temporary. You’re under a lot of stress. Why don’t you just cuddle with me for a while? We can try again, tonight."

They had already tried again twice, with the same dismal result. Severus could become erect, but immediately lost his erection as soon as he attempted to insert himself into her.

"I do not wish to cuddle!" he insisted. "I wish to be left alone, and not harassed about this!"

"Look, I know you’re upset," Welkin said, starting to lose patience with him. "But that’s no reason to snap my head off. I’m not the cause of your problem, so just calm down, and listen to me. This is just temporary, sweetheart. If you’re still having the problem in a few days, we can go to the infirmary, and you can be checked out, and…"

"I am _not_ going to the infirmary! This is a private matter, and no one else’s business!" Snape said adamantly. 

"Stop it! If there’s something wrong, you _will_ go to that infirmary for a checkup, if I have to drag you all the way!"

Sully woke up and began to cry, startled by their loud voices. 

"Oh, great!" Welkin picked him up and started walking back and forth with him, trying to quiet him, as she glared at Snape. "That’s okay, Sully…that’s okay, baby…Mama and Daddy aren’t mad. They’re just having a…minor disagreement." She refused to characterize it as a fight.

"You are going to leave me, aren’t you? I cannot perform as your husband, and you will leave me!" Snape blurted out, his sudden recurring fear making him sound irrational.

"Severus, of course not! Why would you even think that? I love you. I’d still love you even if you could never get another erection the rest of your life. I’d never leave you over something that trivial."

"It is _not_ trivial, and you know that. Do not try to humour me. Sex is very important to you, as it is to me," Snape said bluntly.

"Well, sure. Okay, I admit it is. It’s important to us both. But it’s not what I love most about you. What about me? What if I couldn’t have sex with you anymore, for whatever reason? Would you just toss me aside, and find somebody else who could?"

"No, of course not," he protested.

"I believe you. So do me the same courtesy of believing me when I tell you that I _do_ want to make love with you, and I’m absolutely _determined_ to make love with you, but if we can’t, that won’t change the way I feel about you."

Sully had stopped crying, and Welkin held out her hand expectantly to Severus to join them. He walked towards her slowly and took her hand, no longer looking quite so apprehensive.

"We’re a _family_ , Severus," she told him, clasping his hand firmly. "This is how it feels, and this is how it works: We love each other. When there are problems, we deal with them together, and we support each other, _no matter what_. Nothing can ever split us apart, unless we let it," she said confidently.

* * *

Hortense Huffington regarded the copy of the journal she’d made from the original penned by Welkin’s grandmother. She hadn’t really had time to read much of it yet. She had been too busy executing the first phase of her plan. Perhaps when she was sure that she’d accomplished her goal, then she could peruse it and decide how to make use of it, if there was any value to it at all.

How easy it had been to gain Welkin’s confidence. She really was far too trusting - surprising for someone in Slytherin House. Of course, apparently she was only in Slytherin because of her husband, Severus. She obviously wasn’t clever enough to have been chosen for it on her own merit.

Hortense leaned back against the headboard of her bed, and held up the vial of dark powder she’d used to cast her spell, by surreptitiously mixing it into the brown sugar that Welkin used to flavor her morning coffee. How convenient it had been that Welkin had asked to meet her each morning over coffee, to hand over her mewling brat to her care, and discuss what she wished done for him during the day, when she was engaged with other things.

As long as the powder was in Welkin’s system, Severus Snape would be in for quite a surprise whenever he attempted to bed his wife. Hortense had gone to quite a lot of trouble to acquire what was needed to humiliate Snape, and drive a permanent wedge between him and his wife. How she wished she could transform herself into something small and unobtrusive enough to observe the drama in that bedroom tonight. Unfortunately, it would have to be enough just knowing that her plan for revenge against them both was working, even if she couldn’t see it playing out.

When their relationship was weakened by the first phase of her plan, it would be time to administer the deathblow. It would be time to deal with the child. Welkin and Snape would _never_ recover from losing that half-Muggle brat of theirs. Of that, she was certain.

She loathed being Hortense, but this form and the forged documents had been necessary to get close enough to Welkin to execute her plan. The nondescript features and shapeless figure she had assumed made her avoid looking into the mirror. Just three more days, and three more doses, and the effect of the spell would be permanent. She would deal with the child, and then she could reveal herself to Welkin, and gloat in victory over her. Welkin had humiliated her in a very public way, and now she would destroy her happiness and life with Severus in retaliation.

Hortense extinguished the light in the bedroom she had temporarily rented at the boarding house in Hogsmeade. As she drifted off to sleep, her body began to shimmer as the reverse glamour spell left her, and her true form was revealed. Lying in her place, like a malevolent Sleeping Beauty, was Huldra Helliwell.

* * *

Two more days and nights went by. Much to Welkin’s concern, and Snape’s embarrassment, he continued to experience his distressing problem, unable to take their sexual encounters to completion, although he no longer avoided trying. Indeed, Welkin thought he tried too hard and too often, advising him to put it out of his mind, and just let things flow more naturally.

Classes started, and Snape, preoccupied with the new term and his depressing sexual problem, forgot about his determination to investigate Sullivan’s new nanny, until late afternoon on the third day. Welkin brought up the subject of Hortense after his last class of the day, as they waited in the Great Hall for the nanny to return Sully to them.

"Would you be very upset if I dismissed Hortense as Sully’s nanny?" Welkin asked.

"Why? Has she done something which displeased you?" Snape inquired. He had uneasy feelings about the woman himself.

"Well, kind of. Not concerning Sully, but this morning she just suddenly went off on me about nothing. I met her here with Sully, as usual, and everything was okay until I said I didn’t feel like having any coffee this morning. She went crazy on me all of a sudden, and practically tried to force it on me. Something just seems _off_ about her. Do you know what I mean?" Welkin didn’t know how else to put it. "I had a weird dream about her this afternoon, when I fell asleep in our quarters while I was studying," Welkin added.

"Was it one of your special dreams, or just a dream?" Snape asked. 

"I’m not sure, really. You and I were standing in the forest with Hortense. It was very dark, but there was firelight. She was holding Sully, and he was crying. You pointed your wand at her, and then I woke up."

"I think it would be very wise if we did dismiss her, whether your dream means anything or not," Snape agreed. "I do not think the woman is reliable."

In agreement about the best course of action to take, they sat and waited for the nanny, who was due to appear with their child within the next quarter hour.

* * *

"She’s not here! She’s taken him, Severus!" Welkin told him, looking around the North Tower room in panic. They had gone to the North Tower when Hortense failed to show up downstairs with Sully, well past the appointed time.

"I should never have given him to her this morning when she was acting so strangely. Why did I let her take him? It’ll be all my fault if anything happens to him!" Welkin wailed.

"Stay calm. You must not blame yourself. You had no way of knowing that she would do this. I will get Sullivan back," he promised her. "You saw her in the forest in your dream. I will go to the Forbidden Forest and find her. Do not worry. She will not harm our son," Snape reassured her.

"I’m going with you!" Welkin blurted out. 

Snape started to protest, but remembered that Welkin had said they were together in the forest in her dream. Fortunately, they both kept clothing and other personal items in this room, since Albus had granted them permission to use it on occasion as a change of pace from their dungeon quarters. It was Snape’s concession to Welkin’s preference for airy, sunlit rooms, as opposed to his personal preference for the opposite.

Snape produced cloaks for them both from the chifforobe in the corner. "Put this on," he told Welkin. "Night is falling, and it will be cold in the forest this time of year."

He flung open the latch to the big casement window, and Welkin ran into his arms, clinging to him as he swirled away, headed toward the forest.

* * *

"This way!" Welkin told him. 

"Are you certain?" Snape asked her, wondering how she could possibly know. 

"Yes. She took Sully this way. I can feel it. Don’t ask me how I know - I just know!" Welkin insisted with great certainty. Please, God, don’t let us be too late, she thought, as she clasped Severus’s hand, and ran with him in the direction she had indicated.

They hadn’t gone another half a mile when they started to hear the high-pitched keening of a baby crying. "That’s Sullivan," Snape said, recognizing the distinctive cadence of his wailing. Without another word, they quickened their pace.

A few minutes later, they started to see light from a campfire filtering through the trees as they ran. As they drew closer, a cloaked form, who Welkin assumed was Hortense, rose from a crouched position by the fire, her back to them. As she moved aside, Welkin caught sight of Sully, lying naked on the ground before the fire, screaming in protest against the cold night air. Hortense turned, a jeweled dagger raised in her hand. When she saw them running toward her, she snatched Sullivan up off the ground, and held him clutched against her chest, one long-nailed hand around his neck, his feet dangling and kicking as he continued to shriek.

Welkin and Severus both drew their wands at the same time, and pointed them at her. Hortense quickly pressed the dagger she held against the baby’s chest, pricking the skin directly over his tiny heart. A single drop of blood dribbled down his pale little chest, and he shrieked again.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you," Hortense told them, a nasty edge to her voice. "Unless you want me to cut out his heart," she threatened. The firelight made the wicked grin on her face look even more demented. "Do you recognize this dagger, Welkin?"

"Give me my baby!" Welkin shouted. "Don’t you dare hurt him!" she warned. 

"I said…do you recognize this dagger? Answer me, or I swear, I’ll cut him open and gut him right here and now, you stupid bitch!" 

"Wait! Don’t!" Welkin peered at the dagger, frantically wondering what it was that the mad woman wanted her to say.

"Huldra! Give us our son unharmed, and you may still manage to survive this night," Snape told her ominously, having recognized the implement she held. He steeled himself against the sound of Sullivan’s crying, concentrating instead on keeping Huldra occupied, so that she would not make good on her threat.

Huldra? Welkin looked at the dagger and finally did recognize it. It was the knife that Huldra Helliwell had tried to stab her with, when Welkin had fought with her last year. But the evil woman who wielded it now looked nothing like Huldra Helliwell.

Huldra grimaced savagely, and pricked the baby a second time, eliciting a fresh howl of protest from Sully.

"Put down your wands!" Huldra ordered. "The both of you – or the next prick will pierce his heart, I swear it!"

Snape looked at Welkin. "Do as she says," he said quietly. He looked into her eyes as he said it, and Welkin suddenly felt him in her mind. She flashed a thought back, to let him know that she understood.

Welkin slowly bent, and laid her wand on the ground. As she started to rise again, she faked a stumble and fell forward towards the fire. Huldra leapt back, her eyes diverted to Welkin for just an second.

In a lightning flash, Snape quickly leveled his wand at Huldra, and shouted the Disarming charm. The dagger flew out of her hand, and she lost her grip on the baby. In one smooth movement, Welkin regained her footing and pushed forward, catching Sully before he could hit the ground.

In the same instant as Welkin was catching their child, Huldra tried to pull her wand and aim it at Snape, but was not quick enough. Snape hit her square in the chest with his first volley, knocking her thirty feet distant, where she lay still on the ground. Unconscious, Huldra’s body began to shimmer, and the reverse glamour charm dispelled, leaving her still crumpled on the ground, but looking like her former deceptively beautiful self.

Welkin dabbed at the blood on Sully’s chest, and held him inside her cloak to shield him from the cold, speaking soothing words to quiet him, as Severus advanced quickly to her side.

"He’s scared, but he’s okay, thank God," Welkin told him. She was still shaken, but surprisingly collected, as she examined the baby thoroughly for other injuries. "I don’t think he’ll even have a scar."

With great relief, Snape pulled them both into his arms, and they stood huddled together by the fire.

"What are we going to do with her?" Welkin asked, nodding toward Huldra. 

"Not what I would _like_ to do," Snape told her. The hatred in his voice chilled Welkin to the bone. She had never heard him sound like that before. Yet the sound of it did not disturb her as much as she thought that it might, because she too understood the urge to do unspeakable things to the woman.

"We will let the authorities deal with her," Snape said finally. "If there is any measure of justice to be extracted from this, she will soon be spending her days and nights in Azkaban, and we will finally be well rid of her."

* * *

Snape’s prediction proved true. When Huldra’s room in Hogsmeade was searched, some of the powder she had used on Welkin was discovered among her personal effects, but the _Daily Prophet_ reported that she was convicted primarily of the more serious crimes of _"kidnapping and attempted murder of Sullivan Snape, minor child of Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts, and his wife Welkin Snape."_

Huldra’s personal effects, including a nondescript dark leather-bound book, which appeared to be a journal of some sort, were duly confiscated and placed in a secure area at the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to be inspected at a later date, and then held for her in the event she was ever released from Azkaban.

* * *


	34. The Diva and the Death Eaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape upsets Welkin with his critique of her skills. Welkin is offered a part-time job and accepts, despite Snape's objections. She is eager to help Severus with his spy duties, despite his even stronger objections.

* * *

"Well, _somebody_ sure got his swagger back in a hurry when he found out he no longer had that annoying little sexual problem," Welkin teased. "You’ve been strutting around here as proud as a rooster with a brand new flock of hens to service." She grinned at Snape, happy to see him acting like his old smirking, smug, self-important self.

"I only have one hen to service, but she can be very demanding," he replied. "Fortunately, I am always able to rise to the challenge," he smirked.

Things were as back to normal as they could ever be in this crazy new life of hers, Welkin thought. Normal, that is, taking into account that Sully had narrowly escaped being killed by his malicious, deranged nanny, her husband was a double-agent who continually risked his life by spying on the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and Welkin herself had recently discovered that she was a descendant of Morgan le Fay. Therefore, she was accustomed to split her time between lessons in magic, satisfying her sexually vociferous wizard husband, and caring for their three-month-old child.

Her life had become a Wizarding World soap opera, Welkin realized. And now, stay tuned for another episode of _The Well Hung and the Wandless,_ she parodied.

Severus had finally convinced Welkin that they should hire another nanny. Welkin had refused to consider it for a few weeks after Huldra had kidnapped Sully, but Severus had reasoned to her that if they took the proper precautions this time, there would be no danger. It really did make sense, despite her misgivings, since Albus had accelerated her tuition in all areas of magical study.

So they had employed Violet Murdoch, whose credentials had been immaculate. Violet, a pleasant woman in her early fifties with gentle brown eyes that reminded Welkin of a cocker spaniel, was suffering from empty nest syndrome and was perfect with Sully. She had raised four children herself after her husband died, all of whom had turned out well, were well respected in the local Wizarding community and had very successful careers, a fact which had impressed Severus. More important to Welkin, Violet obviously loved children, and Sully seemed very content with her. She cared for him at her modest, but very comfortable and cheerfully appointed cottage home in Hogsmeade, returning him promptly to them each day at the appointed time. As an extra precaution, Severus had personally placed protective spells on Violet’s home, and a locator spell on Sully, which was a great comfort to Welkin.

Welkin liked Violet quite a lot but couldn’t help feeling a little jealous of her sometimes, since she was now spending more time with Sully than Welkin was, except on the weekends. Hopefully, when her training was completed, Welkin could spend much more time with Sully. By that time he would be old enough to miss her. Right now, judging by his healthy appetite, she suspected that he missed her breasts, and the bounty they provided, more often than he missed her.

"Is my little hen ready for her rooster?" Snape asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Welkin laughed. Yep, that cinched it. Everything was definitely back to normal. "Let me just put our little cockerel back in his nest for the night, and I’ll be right there," she told him.

* * *

"She’s almost as good as you, Hermione," Ron told her, as he, Hermione, and Harry stood on the sidelines with other members of Dumbledore’s Army, watching as Welkin dueled simultaneously with Dumbledore and Snape.

"No, she’s better," Hermione admitted, sounding quite surprised. Hermione still couldn’t quite concede that she might have been mistaken about Welkin’s qualifications to deserve the love of a man of the superior intellectual capacity and magical abilities that Professor Snape had. She was slowly starting to realize that there was more to the woman than there appeared to be on the surface. From all reports, Welkin was excelling in all of her classes except flight, with not nearly the effort that Hermione expended on study and preparation, a fact that Hermione found quite maddening. It was almost as if she were born with some natural advantage. It seemed somehow unfair, Hermione thought.

Welkin was taking some glancing hits, but she was alternately dodging and deflecting most of their volleys. She had even managed to get the drop on Snape at least once, striking him squarely in the chest and knocking him to the ground, much to Harry’s amusement, and Snape’s annoyance.

"Excellent, excellent!" Dumbledore praised her when the practice session finally ended. He had only been able to knock her down one time, and it was not from lack of trying. Welkin was a natural as a duelist.

"Thank you, Albus," she said. She looked at Snape expectantly. 

"You were…quite adequate," he offered his less than glowing performance review.

"Adequate? That was more than adequate, and you know it." 

"Perhaps," he admitted. "How are your flight lessons progressing?" He quickly changed the subject, knowing full well how she was still struggling with her fear of heights.

"I could use some improvement," she admitted, glaring at him. He knew that she was doing excellently in everything else she was studying. He had intentionally ignored that, and questioned her about the one thing he knew that she was no closer to mastering than she had been the first week that she had begun her training.

"Then perhaps you should not be quite so quick to congratulate yourself. Flight is an important part of your magical training, perhaps even more essential than dueling in some ways, although it is admittedly less of a crowd pleasing spectacle," he said disdainfully.

Welkin stared at him. Snape stared back. The students on the sidelines shifted nervously, and tried not to make it obvious that they had heard every word of the testy exchange.

"Severus. Do you know what?" 

"What, Welkin?" he asked impassively. 

"You can kiss my ass, that’s what," she told him. She turned and stalked away towards the castle.

* * *

"I missed you at supper, my pet. I have brought you some dessert," Snape told her. 

"No, thank you," Welkin said coolly. "Sully and I have already eaten." 

"It is your favorite, my sweet - gooseberry crumble." He tempted her with the sweet and sour confection, uncovering the container, and holding it under her nose.

She turned her head. "No, thank you. I’m not hungry. Would you mind taking Sully? I’d like to take a bath. I’m still sweaty from this afternoon’s dueling practice."

Snape took Sully from her, and watched as she strode into the bathroom, shutting the door. Ordinarily she would not bother closing the door, but would leave it open so that they could talk. He listened as she filled the tub. When the sounds stopped, he knew she had sunk into the soothing water.

"I do believe that your mother is a bit upset with me," Snape told Sullivan in a solemn tone. Sully laughed and grabbed his father’s nose, babbling nonsense back at him. It was something he had begun doing in the past week, and he never seemed to tire of it. Snape’s prominent nose was a source of endless fascination to him. It never failed to make Welkin laugh to see him pursue it. Perhaps Sullivan could help him maneuver himself back into Welkin’s good graces, Snape thought.

Trying the door and finding it unlocked, Snape entered with the baby, and perched on the edge of the tub with him. 

"Wells, Sullivan is very talkative this evening, and is playing the nose game," he reported. Sully obligingly squealed and babbled as he once again captured Snape’s nose with his little hand.

Welkin pressed her lips together, and tried not to laugh. Sully continued to babble, patting and grasping at Snape’s large hooked nose. He reared backwards in Snape’s arms suddenly, then forwards again going straight for the object of his desire. This time, however, instead of grasping it, he smacked Snape squarely on the bridge of his nose with his frantically waving hand.

_"Ow!"_ Snape said, squinting his eyes shut in pain, involuntary tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Welkin burst out laughing. Startled, Sully turned his head to look at her. Imitating his mother, he laughed loudly, and gave another happy squeal.

* * *

"Does it still hurt?" Welkin asked, grinning at him. Sully had long since gone to sleep, and she and Snape were in bed, Welkin having forgotten her anger at him.

"No, but it is still sore," he complained. 

"I'm sorry I laughed, but it serves you right for humiliating me like you did today in front of all those students."

"How did I humiliate you?" Snape looked puzzled. 

"By ignoring my strengths and only focusing on my weaknesses. That was thoughtless, and just plain mean, Severus."

"I am sorry. I did not intend it to be." He rubbed his nose carefully. "I merely meant to impress upon you the importance of your flight lessons. It is your only area of weakness, as you pointed out. You are quite proficient in all other areas, as you also rather immodestly pointed out."

"You think so?" Welkin asked, sounding pleased. 

"I know so," Snape replied. "I thought you knew that." 

Welkin kissed him, carefully avoiding his sore nose - which was quite a feat, considering it covered so much of his face.

"Well, then…since you agree that I’m doing so well in almost everything, I guess that means you won’t mind when I tell you that I’ve accepted a job," she told him. "I start Friday night. It’s only two nights a week, Friday and Saturday, and it won’t interfere with my studies at all, I promise," she said in a rush. "Well…goodnight, Sevvy."

She waved her hand to douse the lights, and turned over on her side, pulling the coverlet up to her chin, holding her breath for what she knew was coming.

"Welkin…" The lights came back on. "A job? You sought a job without consulting me? We must discuss this."

"Actually, the job kind of sought me, and I thought, why not? It’ll bring in a little extra money - not a lot, but some - and it might even be useful in other ways."

"What job is this that sought you?" Snape asked, sounding unconvinced. "What would you be doing?"

"Can’t we discuss this tomorrow? I’m pretty tired," Welkin said, making a great show of yawning. She waved her hand and put out the lights again.

Snape didn’t bother with the lights this time, but did grasp her shoulders and turn her to face him in the bed. "We will discuss it _now_ ," he said firmly. "What is the job you would be doing?"

"Singing," Welkin said, blinking at him innocently. 

"Singing where?" Snape asked. He had a feeling he was not going to like the answer.

"Singing at the _Hog’s Head Inn_ ," Welkin said. "Aberforth Dumbledore offered me the job when I was in there last week to pick up the gloves I left there on New Year’s Eve. He heard me singing along with something the piano player was practicing. He said he thought I would bring in a lot of new customers. Wasn’t that sweet of him?"

"You will most certainly not be singing at the _Hog’s Head_. It is quite out of the question."

"But why not, Severus? I want to, and I might even be able to pick up some information there that could help the Order of the Phoenix, if I keep my ears open. It’s just the sort of place that Death Eaters would come. There was a whole table of them there on New Year’s Eve, remember? When they’re drinking they might let something about Voldemort slip - something that even you don’t know about. Albus said he thought it might be very useful if I worked there, when I asked him about it, and he said Aberforth was very protective of his employees, and would see to it that nothing happened to me."

"Albus is _not_ your husband," Snape informed her. "I am, and I say no. I will not have you singing in that disreputable and potentially dangerous establishment. Have you learned nothing from the incident with Huldra Helliwell? You must not deliberately place yourself in harm’s way. You are much too precious to me. "

"That’s sweet you feel that way, but it doesn’t change my mind. You can’t always tell me what to do, just because you’re my husband. I’ve already accepted the job, and I start Friday night. So just _deal_ with it."

"Then I am coming with you," Snape told her, knowing it was no use continuing to argue with her.

"How am I supposed to spy on Death Eaters with you sitting there all night, staring at me and sticking out like a sore thumb?" she protested.

"I am coming with you, Welkin. Friday night, and _every_ night that you perform there. There will be no spying on Death Eaters. You will go there to sing, and that is _all_ that you will do. You can just, as you say, _deal with that_ ," he said stubbornly.

"Okay, you can come with me." She decided to compromise, knowing that he would come with her whether she gave him permission to or not. "I just don’t want to argue about it anymore."

Welkin stopped arguing and lay looking at Severus in profile. Even though he was way too stubborn and very set in his ways at times, he was really pretty sexy when he lay there scowling like that. Maybe they should have sex later.

"Sevvy? I’m not really that sleepy yet. Are you?" 

Snape turned to look at her. She was wearing one of his Christmas gifts - a plain long-sleeved grey nightshirt that closely resembled his own, and concealed most of her womanly assets, except for her legs. Despite the fact that it was the least revealing night garb that he had ever purchased for her, he found it strangely titillating on her.

"Not sleepy in the least, Wells," he said, reaching for her. "I shall pleasure you until we are both tired. Please, do not touch my sore nose," he requested as an afterthought.

Welkin had actually been about to suggest that they both get out of bed and split that gooseberry cobbler he’d tempted her with earlier in the evening, but she didn’t want a repeat of the bacon incident from last month when Severus had thought that she preferred bacon over his lovemaking. It had resulted in a minor argument which she had finally settled by crawling under the breakfast table to pleasure him orally.

How silly he was - thinking she preferred bacon over him. Bacon was a close second, of course, but Severus didn’t necessarily need to know that, she thought, as he began to kiss her somewhat more gingerly than usual, favoring his injured nose.

* * *

The opening night appearance of the new chanteuse at the _Hog’s Head Inn_ proved to be more of a gala social event than was expected, and more expensive than Snape had expected. Welkin seemed to have invited most of the Hogwarts faculty, with a few notable exceptions, such as Dolores Umbridge, and she had invited some of the older Hogwarts students as well.

"What do you mean, we are paying for them?" Snape asked her testily. 

"Well, I invited them as special guests. We can’t ask them to pay for _themselves_ , Severus," Welkin said. "I gave Aberforth our list and he’ll give us the tally at the end of the evening. Then you can pay him. And don’t forget to add twenty percent for the waitress. She’s a very nice girl. She takes care of her elderly mother, and she’s saving money so that she and her gentleman friend can get married."

"I’m to give a twenty percent tip to that bedraggled creature who does little more than carry a few trays of firewhisky and mumble incoherent rubbish at us about two drink minimums?" Snape was incensed.

"Yes, you are. And there are strict instructions that none of the students are to be allowed to order anything stronger than Butterbeer, so if you see Ron Weasley trying to sneak some firewhisky, you rap him on the head or something," Welkin ordered. "Aberforth can lose his license over that. I hear there will be Ministry people here tonight."

"Exactly how many people did you invite to drink themselves into a stupor on my hard-earned galleons?"

"Not that many. That long table there is for our guests. You’re the host, so you sit at the head of that table and direct any of the Hogwarts people on this list that you see come in tonight, where to sit." She handed him a piece of parchment with a distressingly long list of names on it.

Snape scowled at this further indignity. He knew for a fact that Welkin had tried to organize a surprise birthday party for him this year, and none of these people had been inclined to accept her invitation, tendering to her some very inadequate excuses indeed. Snape had not cared about the slight to himself - at least not that much - but Welkin had been terribly disappointed, and had pretended that the private celebration they had together was what she had intended all along. They had upset his Welkin, and now he was supposed to play generous host to them?

"Thank you for being such a lamb about it." Welkin smiled at him, and kissed him on the cheek, as he stared at the long table filled with chairs, and tried to compute just how much that two drink minimum was going to cost him, assuming no one drank anything after that, which was unlikely.

"There’s Julien. I’ve got to go. See you later, Sevvy!" Welkin bounded off to confer with the piano player about their musical arrangements. Snape squinted at this Julien person, who he vaguely remembered from New Year’s Eve. He had damn well better keep his nimble hands on those piano keys, and off of Welkin, if he knew what was good for him, Snape thought.

The slightly younger man, whose long, straight blond hair was tied back with a black ribbon, was a bit too thin, but not entirely unattractive, judging by the looks he was getting from a number of the female patrons. Snape had not been happy with Welkin’s need to commit herself to so many practice sessions with him prior to tonight’s opening.

Snape felt something tugging at his trouser leg, and looked down. It was the house goat, apparently mistaking his trousers for an appetizer. Snape kicked at it to shoo it away, eliciting a glare from Aberforth Dumbledore, who had a long memory for people he had once thrown out of his establishment. He had been willing to give Snape a second chance, by virtue of his marriage to Welkin, who he judged to be from good stock, but Snape had better not count on that. No goat molesting would be tolerated in the _Hog’s Head Inn_.

* * *

Snape glanced around the room, which was filled to capacity, due to word of mouth, and a somewhat garish moving poster outside the establishment, which depicted Welkin in a pose showing far too much leg, in Snape’s opinion. He would have to discuss that with her when they returned to Hogwarts later this evening.

Among those seated at their guest table were Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Charity Burbage, Pomona Sprout, Madam Hooch, Rubeus Hagrid, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy, and so many Weasleys that it looked like a family reunion - Arthur and Molly, Fred and George, Ron and Ginny. Hagrid had thoughtfully taken the seat at the far end of the table, so as not to block anyone’s view with his massive form.

Snape had scanned the other tables and made note of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, much to his surprise, since the _Hog’s Head_ was not exactly Narcissa’s cup of tea under normal circumstances. He also noted with surprise that they were holding hands across the tabletop, something he had not seen them do since before Draco’s birth.

Seated at the table next to them, in another prime location, was Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic. Madam Bones had been quite sensitive to Welkin during the questioning after the arrest of Huldra Helliwell, and Welkin had wanted to invite her tonight in appreciation. Snape did not recognize the man who was seated with her.

Rita Skeeter, that annoying harridan, was here with a photographer. No doubt she was covering the event for the _Daily Prophet_. That was unusual, since Rita did not normally cover the entertainment beat.

Xenophilius Lovegood was here as well, representing the _Quibbler_. It was also unusual for him to cover local entertainment venues. He had declined to sit with Rita at her 'press table', preferring to take a seat at the bar, where he was sipping a cup of tea, since he didn’t drink alcohol. He had been obliged to order the customary two drink minimum however, and had promptly handed his two glasses of firewhisky over to two of the old gentlemen at the bar who were regulars, to their great delight. They were now treating him as if he were their oldest and closest friend.

Xeno’s daughter Luna, who was at their table, was also a non-drinker, and had contented herself with a glass of water, a bowl of peanuts, and some suspicious looking pudding which the waitress had managed to wrestle up from someplace for her.

Minerva had been disappointed to learn that wine was not available at the _Hog’s Head_ this evening, and had finally settled for ordering Butterbeer. When the waitress brought their first round however, she set a brimming glass of elf wine in front of her, telling her it was compliments of "Ab-ferth, fer the luv-lee lay-dee," as she pointed him out behind the bar. The wine was from his personal stock, and Aberforth Dumbledore raised his glass of firewhisky in salute to Minerva, and gave her a wink.

"My word!" Minerva said. "No offense intended, Albus - I know he’s your brother - but he’s a bit cheeky, if you ask me!"

There was only one table that remained empty as Welkin started her first set of the evening, which was comprised of a mixture of Wizarding and Muggle standards, and sentimental torch songs. The empty table was the reserved table closest to the piano, the prime location for tonight’s performance.

Halfway into Welkin’s second song of the evening, the front door of the _Hog’s Head_ opened, and two well-dressed men entered, threading their way through the other tables, pausing only to acknowledge Lucius and Narcissa, and Amelia Bones, before taking their place at the VIP table.

With some trepidation, Snape recognized who they were, and wondered why they had such an interest in seeing Welkin perform. It was Yaxley, one of the more ambitious of the Death Eaters, seated with Pius Thicknesse, a Ministry of Magic up-and-comer. The waitress recognized them as well, and brought a bottle of firewhisky with three glasses over to their table immediately, apparently prearranged. Snape wondered who the third glass was for.

Snape saw that Yaxley had spotted Harry Potter at his table, and was eyeing him speculatively. Thankfully, it would not be wise for Yaxley to attempt anything against Potter here tonight, with Albus Dumbledore and Amelia Bones both in attendance. He would not want to tip his hand to them, of that Snape was sure. Dumbledore had also noticed Yaxley's interest, but was pretending not to, as he dropped his hand to the pocket of his robe, which Snape knew usually contained his wand.

"Welkin has such a lovely, expressive voice, Severus," Flitwick told Snape, able to appreciate it at last, in this venue where he did not have to worry about being held responsible for Welkin’s sometimes questionable song selections.

Welkin finished the Wizarding World music hall classic she was singing, and then announced she was going to sing one of her favorite Dinah Washington bluesy Muggle favorites. "I hope you all like it too." She nodded at Julien with a wink, and then launched into a more upbeat tempo version of _Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby?_

Yaxley’s eyes had narrowed a little at her mention of Muggle music, but then he had settled back to listen and watch her, while sipping his firewhisky thoughtfully.

Welkin, in her glittering silver and gold gown, slit deeply up the sides, a lotus design collar-style necklace and matching earrings, and her bare upper arms adorned with gold cobra bracelets, resembled an auburn-haired ancient Egyptian princess. She crossed to the bar as she sang, picking out some of the older 'gents' to sing to, much to their semi-toothless delight.

  
_Oh, I got a man that’s always late_  
Any time we have a date  
But I love him  
Yes I love him 

_So I’m gonna walk up to his gate_  
See if we can get it straight  
Cause I want him  
Yeah I intend to have him 

(She grasped one of the old Wizarding geezers by the chin, nearly making him spill his firewhisky.)

_I’ll just ask him_  
Is you is or is you ain’t my baby  
Well, the way you’re acting lately, well it makes me doubt  
You is still my baby, baby  
But it seems like my flame in your heart, well it done gone out 

(She moved on to Xeno Lovegood, who she thought was looking quite dapper himself, in a purple velvet jacket embroidered with all sorts of esoteric magical symbols, and began singing breathily into his ear.)

_A man is a creature_  
That has always been strange  
Just when you’re sure of one  
You’ll find that he’s gone and made a change 

(Welkin propped one foot up on the bar’s foot rail as she sang to Xeno, the side slit in her gown revealing more leg than she probably intended, and certainly more than Snape intended her to. There was a sudden flash, as the photographer from the _Daily Prophet_ took the opportunity he’d been given to capture her in the provocative pose.)

Snape groaned to himself and downed his firewhisky. 

_Is you is or is you ain’t my baby  
Well, maybe baby’s found somebody new  
Or is my baby still my baby too_

(Welkin strolled back to Julien as she sang the refrain, leaning back against the back of the piano with a cocky attitude. When she finished, the clientele erupted in applause, and she smiled and blew a kiss at Snape, which made heads turn in his direction, much to his embarrassment.)

"This next song is also a Muggle classic, and is a special request from Hogwarts Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore." Welkin pointed him out at the table. Welkin sang _Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered_ for Albus.

As Welkin continued singing, Yaxley caught the eye of the waitress and motioned to her. When she came over with another bottle of firewhisky, he whispered something to her, and she nodded as he slipped her a tip.

* * *

Aberforth thought this might be the best business decision he’d made in a long time, as he watched the free-spending crowd that Welkin had brought in tonight. He had other reasons for hiring her, of course, but the increase in business was a great side benefit.

He would have to watch Yaxley though. He was up to something. He was sure of it. Aberforth didn’t mind serving Death Eaters in his establishment. He’d serve almost anybody, and take their money, as long as they behaved themselves, and didn’t get on his nerves or molest his goat. But some Death Eaters were more trouble than others, and he had already judged Yaxley to be one of those. He would have to watch that Welkin didn’t get into trouble with that one. She was a little too eager to play spy. Probably something that husband of hers had put her up to. Severus Snape always was a sniveling little sneak, in Aberforth’s opinion. Why a fine girl like that wanted to mix herself up with Snape, much less marry the blackguard, he really couldn’t figure.

Despite her lack of discrimination where it came to picking a husband, Welkin had a pretty interesting range of friends though, Aberforth conceded. There was one in particular, who was seated next to his brother unfortunately, who he wouldn’t mind getting to know a little better, assuming brother Albus hadn’t already laid claim to her. It would be so like him to have beat him to the well for the cool water yet again. He had been doing it all their lives. Albus had always been the shining star of the family - widely acknowledged to be destined for greatness as a Wizard - while Aberforth was mostly just overlooked - judged to be common and coarse, and a dullard by comparison. Aberforth poured himself another drink, and stood staring at Minerva McGonagall with a look of great appreciation on his face.

* * *

"Missuz Snape, the fancy gent 'ud like you's at his table fer a lie-bation," Florinda the barmaid repeated to her. Welkin had just finished her first set of two for the evening, promising the clientele she and Julien would be back after a forty-five minute break. She was going to join Severus at their table for her break, but the 'fancy gent' that Florinda was indicating was one that Welkin had pegged as a Death Eater the moment he’d sat down at his table, and she didn’t want to pass up this opportunity.

Smiling pleasantly, she approached his table and accepted the kiss he placed on her hand as he and his companion rose to greet her. Yaxley introduced himself and Pius to her in a deep, gravelly voice tinged with a Scottish accent. She allowed him to seat her, and pour her a drink.

* * *

Snape stiffened apprehensively in his chair as he saw Yaxley seat Welkin at his table, and pour her a drink. What was she doing? He had expressly told her that she was to stay away from any Death Eaters when she sang here, either real or imagined ones, since she didn’t seem to be able to ascertain the difference. Welkin immediately assumed that anyone wearing all black with slicked back hair was a Death Eater, when the truth was, they came in all manner of guises. Not all of them were Slytherin either, which was another common misconception.

Unfortunately, Welkin had just accepted an invitation from one of the most dangerous real Death Eaters here tonight - one who was very close to the Dark Lord himself. He watched with growing concern as Welkin began a very animated conversation with Yaxley as she sipped her drink.

* * *

"How is it that Severus hasn’t brought you to one of our organization’s...social gatherings?" Yaxley asked her, trying to determine just how much Snape had shared with her.

"Oh, Severus doesn’t like me getting out much, and meeting other people," Welkin complained. "He wouldn’t even let me sing here tonight without coming along so he could watch me like a hawk. I guess he doesn’t trust me," she pouted. "I was so happy when you invited me for a drink. It’s so nice to meet two such distinguished gentlemen for a change."

"So, you have never met the founder of our organization?" Yaxley asked, already knowing the answer. Snape had taken quite a ribbing from some quarters in their ranks, about his ill-fated dinner with Voldemort.

"Oh, but I have! Milord was a perfectly charming gentleman. But Severus became…somewhat displeased with me, and we had to leave the Malfoys before I even got to eat. He’s so _mean_ to me sometimes." She cast her eyes down at the tabletop and looked tragic and melancholy.

Yes, Yaxley had heard all about that. Apparently Snape had given her quite a beating for playing up to Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord had quite enjoyed it, referencing it several times at their next group meeting.

Yaxley fixed Welkin with an appraising gaze. Lucky Snape, he thought, though it did seem a pity to mar such lovely skin by beating her. Yaxley had always suspected that Snape was the type who preferred his sex with quite a bit of sadism attached to it. He apparently took quite good care of his property after abusing it however, since Yaxley could detect no marks of permanent damage on Welkin’s body. Pius merely sat back quietly, sipping his whisky, and let Yaxley do the probing.

"Ummm…how is milord, by the way?" Welkin asked innocently. "Is he getting out much? I had thought I might see him here tonight, although I’m afraid my poor talents might bore him. Severus says I should be grateful that he even took notice of me at all, and I am not fit to even be in his presence, or to be privy to any of his great and heroic endeavors. I would so enjoy hearing about him and his great plans though, even though I know I am so unworthy."

"I’m sure…My Lord…would find your interest in him, and his projects, quite amusing," Yaxley assured her. "He is a very private person, and rarely attends events such as this, and then only in a somewhat incognito manner. His fame is quite widespread in the Wizarding World, but he is not ready to subject himself to undue attention at this time. Perhaps when his plans come to fruition soon, you will meet again. At present, he is traveling out of the country on a matter of importance."

"I’d just love it if he could attend one of my performances, even incognito!" Welkin said, trying to sound starstruck. "He’s such a great man!"

"Welkin, what are you doing? I hope that you are not annoying these gentlemen with your usual inane prattle," Snape demanded. Severus had suddenly appeared at their table, no longer able to control his concern for Welkin.

"Oh, no, Severus, I swear I’m not! Please don’t be angry with me," she pleaded, adopting a meek tone, and casting her eyes back down at the table.

"I do not believe that I have given you permission to socialize with the customers tonight, Welkin. Your place is with me." Snape grasped her wrist and pulled her to her feet. 

"Excuse me, Yaxley," he said. "But it appears that my wife has not quite learned her place even yet, although I have repeatedly gone to great pains to _instruct_ her. Perhaps we will discuss the subject of what is proper behaviour for you once again, at length, later this evening. Would you like that, my dear?" His quiet voice belied the obvious menace in his words.

Welkin gave Yaxley a frightened look as Snape led her away, and back to his table.

Yaxley took another drink and peered after them thoughtfully, wondering if he might be able to make use somehow of Snape's obvious preoccupation with his Muggle chattel, his so-called wife.

* * *

In her second set, Welkin introduced the Wizarding crowd to _Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend_ , which Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy seemed to enjoy quite a lot.

By the time she came to her last song of the evening Yaxley and Pius had already left, much to Snape’s relief, and Welkin also felt a little more free to express herself, as the last song was one she had reserved especially to dedicate to Severus. It might have seemed strange to Yaxley if she had sung it while he was still there, considering that the lyrics of the song, and the fear of Snape which she had already expressed to him, were quite at odds.

"I want to thank everyone for coming tonight, and I hope you enjoyed the evening. Aberforth willing, I’ll be back tomorrow night, though not dressed nearly as extravagantly," Welkin joked, indicating her pseudo-Egyptian finery. "So show up tomorrow, prepared to drink and enjoy yourselves!"

"I’ll be here for sure, girly!" yelled the old gent at the bar. 

"That’s nice, Bertie," Welkin yelled back. "But you’re here every night anyway!" A burst of laughter rippled through the room, and Bertie laughed along with it. 

"My last song of the evening is for my husband, Severus, who puts up with quite a lot from me sometimes, because I can be a little bit of a handful, I’ll admit," Welkin said, looking directly at him as the music began, and she started to sing. Her eyes and voice reflected the emotion she felt:

__  
Oh, my man, I love him so, he’ll never know  
All my life is just despair, but I don’t care  
When he takes me in his arms  
The world is bright, all right…  
What’s the difference if I say I’ll go away  
When I know I’ll come back on my knees someday  
For whatever my man is, I am his...forever more…  


As Welkin sang from her heart and soul just for him, Snape suddenly stopped minding how many galleons the evening had cost him.

* * *

Author's Notes: Song attributions - _Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby?_ \- co-written 1944 by Louis Jordan and Billy Austin; _My Man_ , as written by Jacques Charles, Albert Willemertz, Maurice Yvain Pollock - EMI Music Publishing

* * *


	35. A Meeting of the Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus learns that Welkin has inadvertently revealed a little too much to the _Daily Prophet_. They attempt to have a strictly intellectual conversation. Welkin finally shares herself completely with Severus, allowing him to use Legilimency during their lovemaking.

* * *

The photo of Welkin didn’t come out in the _Daily Prophet_ until Monday’s edition, along with an article by Rita Skeeter which, though complimentary of Welkin’s singing, also went so far as to intimate a much more cozy relationship between Welkin and her pianist than actually existed. There was nothing concrete that might be actionable for libel, but enough veiled inferences to give some people the wrong idea. Unfortunately for Welkin, one of those people who got the wrong idea was Severus Snape.

"I can’t believe you’re actually getting upset over this. It’s nothing. Hermione told me Skeeter is known for this sort of thing. Scandal and innuendo sells newspapers, unfortunately. As for the photo, I think it’s very flattering, and any coverage at all is good for Aberforth’s business," Welkin said. She began idly rearranging items on the desk in his office in the Potions Lab as they discussed their opposing opinions about press coverage of her first night performances at the _Hog’s Head Inn_.

"Flattering? I suppose you think that it is flattering that half the male population at Hogwarts quite possibly has a copy of this pornographic rendering of you hanging above their beds to leer at every night while they pleasure themselves?"

"It’s not pornographic. It’s just showing a little leg," Welkin denied, rejecting his more lurid assessment. "What’s wrong with that?" She purposely ignored his comment about the male students. They had gone down that road once before, early in their marriage, with disastrous results.

"Have you not looked closely at this photograph, Welkin? You can see, at the point when you turn thusly," Snape said, waiting for the angle he was referencing to display. "There! See? I can plainly see your knickers!"

"So what?" Welkin asked, sounding bored. "It's not like you haven't seen my knickers before," she said flippantly. She took the paper from him and looked at it more closely. "I don’t see my panties. I only see…oh shit!" Welkin looked at Snape, wondering how to break the bad news to him.

"You see them now, don’t you? Your red knickers are quite clearly exposed for all the Wizarding World to see," Snape said with disgust.

"Severus, I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but I don’t think that’s my panties. If you remember how we celebrated after we got home that night…well…don’t you remember what I was wearing?"

"Of course I remember," Snape assured her. "You were wearing…" 

He stopped talking abruptly, and his face went a little pale, or a little paler, considering that his face was already naturally pretty pale to begin with. He grabbed the paper from her again, and studied it so closely that his nose nearly touched the image. Welkin heard him groan loudly when his worst suspicions were confirmed.

"I was wearing those silver crotchless panties you bought for me," Welkin sighed. "I guess you’re right. It _is_ a little bit pornographic. It could be worse though," she informed him. "I mean, it’s not like they have a picture of me sucking your dick. That really _would_ be pornographic, considering how big it is." Welkin couldn’t help grinning at the thought.

"This display is not in the least bit amusing, Welkin! Do you not understand that other men have gained visual access to your pussy?" Snape sputtered.

"Oh, my! Other men have visual access to my pussy? Whatever _shall_ we do?" Welkin asked in mock horror. 

"Don't get so bent out of shape about it, Severus," Welkin advised him. "It was an accident. Nobody else will probably even notice it. I'm sorry, sweetie. I really am. But we can't do anything about it now. Unless you plan to track down and Obliviate every reader of the _Daily Prophet_ who got this issue."

Snape frowned at her continued lack of concern and seriousness. "I should never have agreed to let you sing at the _Hog’s Head_ in the first place. But I can at least remedy that immediately, even if I cannot do anything about this distressing display. You will not sing there again. I am quite determined about this, so do not attempt to change my mind."

"But Severus, that isn’t fair! I didn’t do anything wrong, and you know it. It was just an accident that I exposed myself. You can’t make me stop singing! Aberforth is counting on me, and so is Julien!"

"And that is another thing - I do not like your association with this Julien person. I know nothing about him. I do not even know his surname, or who his people are. I do not like the way that he looks at you when you are singing. It is obvious to me that he desires to bed you."

"That’s just crazy," Welkin said with exasperation. "You think every man who even looks at me wants to fuck me. You shouldn’t judge every other man by your own personally outrageous level of perpetual horniness. Believe it or not, most men besides you have more on their minds than sticking their dicks in me morning, noon and night. Some of them actually like to just talk with me."

"You are disgusted by my desire for you?" Snape sounded deeply hurt. 

"Oh, my fucking lord! I can’t win with you! You twist everything that I say to make it sound like an insult! You know I didn’t mean it that way!" 

Welkin flopped down on the black leather couch, and folded her arms under her breasts. "All I meant," she continued more calmly, "is that it might be nice to just sit and have an intellectual exchange with you every now and then, like we used to, without feeling like you’re just waiting for me to shut up so that you can jump on top of me."

Snape considered her suggestion’s merit. He walked over to sit down next to her on the couch. "What would you like to discuss?" he asked her.

"Well..." She glanced up at the ceiling as she attempted to think of a likely topic. Hopefully, one that didn't include the subject of underwear. 

"What about that article in _Potions and Enchantments Quarterly_? The one about Moonstone in the use of Healing Charms. I thought that was pretty interesting. What did you think about it?" She unfolded her arms and took a less defensive posture.

"I thought the author failed to cite sufficient trial studies on which to base some of his conclusions, but that the historical research was quite thorough - particularly regarding the connection with Druid healing culture."

Snape moved closer to her and leaned back, extending his arms across the back of the couch, his legs comfortably splayed open in a typically masculine display. 

Why did men always seem to sit like that with their legs spread open? Were they trying not to crush their balls or air them out, or something? Was it an unconscious sexual display? Welkin resolutely forced her mind off the subject of Snape’s crotch, and back onto what he had just said.

"But studies aside, don’t you think that the two actual cases he did cite were quite convincing? I mean, just the fact that the eight-year-old boy was healed completely of what is nearly always a fatal disease would be enough for me to think that the treatment warrants further study," Welkin told him earnestly. "In fact," she announced, the idea just having occurred to her, "I might run some tests myself, on a smaller scale to begin with."

Snape had been watching her mouth as she spoke, entranced by her full, slightly pouty lower lip. He envisioned capturing it between his own lips in a kiss.

Welkin saw him staring. "Severus, are you listening to me?" she asked suspiciously. "You don’t look like you are."

"Of course, I am listening to you," Snape told her, feeling the beginning stirrings of his arousal between his legs. "I would agree that it warrants more investigation, and it might be a very efficacious area of study for you. Your ancestress was quite lauded as a healer, and your family line appears to have retained an interest in it over the centuries."

"My ancestress was also quite lauded, as well as reviled, as a dark sorceress, depending on your point of view," Welkin added.

"Yes, precisely. Depending upon your point of view," Snape agreed. He regarded her with renewed interest in this area of discussion. "You are not repulsed by the Dark Arts?"

"No, not particularly. You know that I used to read about Dark Magic, because I told you that during our first Christmas at Spinner’s End. I’m actually quite fascinated by it, especially now with the Morgan le Fay connection to me. I don’t like some of the things that people use Dark Magic for, but I don’t automatically recoil from the study of it either. I’ve never really understood why other people are so afraid of it."

"Lily was quite adamant in her condemnation of my interest in the Dark Arts," Snape told her yet again. It was a subject he had come back to repeatedly in the past year, after he had realized that Welkin truly might not share Lily’s complete abhorrence.

"From what you’ve told me about her, it sounds like she was more disappointed in your choice of Death Eaters as friends and compatriots, although it does sound like she shared some of the same prejudice against the Dark Arts that most people do. You have to admit that joining the Death Eaters was not exactly your finest hour, considering the things that Voldemort espoused, and is still trying to put into action. I don’t know what kind of a man he was before, but he’s morphed into something incredibly evil over the years. I’m so glad that you’re not really a part of that anymore, even if people think that you are."

"I wish that there was no need for me to be involved at all," he told her. "Perhaps then we could have a more normal life."

"Normal is highly overrated," Welkin smiled. "Normal things have never really held my interest that much. After this Voldemort stuff is all over, maybe we can study the Dark Arts together. Would you like that?"

"I think that I would like that very much," Snape told her, his dark eyes glittering at the thought. To be able to study again, with someone who would not condemn him - it was an intoxicating thought.

"Maybe we shouldn’t wait. Who knows how long it will take for Voldemort to be vanquished, or what it will take. If what I’ve seen in my dreams is true, I may need more than the skills that Albus has taught me, to help you protect our family. Maybe you could start my education by teaching me some of the things you already know," Welkin suggested, leaning forward eagerly.

"I…suppose that I could," Snape hesitated. If they were discovered, it would not go well for either of them.

"Fabulous! Just don’t tell Albus, or anybody else for that matter. I don’t think other people would understand," Welkin advised. "Albus would definitely go apeshit about it. You don’t have a problem with keeping it from him, do you?"

"I know that he would be against the idea. The Dark Arts can be very seductive. He has denied me the Defense Against the Dark Arts post for years because he apparently feared that I would revert to my former ways," Snape agreed ruefully. "No, I have no misgivings about keeping it secret from him. Our pact to have no more secrets involves only you and me. Everyone else is of no consequence."

"I wouldn’t go that far," Welkin said. "They _are_ of consequence. Just not as much consequence as we are to each other."

"You mean everything to me," Snape told her, and as usual Welkin felt a thrill at his words. How wonderful it was to be so certain that what he said to her was absolutely true.

"Even though I’m just a somewhat clever enchantress who happens to love you, and not some brilliant ivory tower intellectual like Albus Dumbledore?" Welkin asked. "I get the impression that some people think I’m not intelligent enough for you," Welkin observed wryly. "I won’t name names, but one of them has the initials H.G., and flung herself at you in an ill-advised way recently. I think Minerva may have felt the same way in the beginning."

"I did not choose you for your intelligence," Snape said. 

"Well, fuck you too. Thanks a lot!" 

"No, I did not mean that I do not think you are intelligent," Snape clarified hastily. "I meant that, although you _are_ intelligent, that was not the quality that made me wish to have you as my own. It was your spirit that attracted me most. You were so unafraid of me during the Legilimency when I was questioning you. You were so sure of yourself, and determined not to be intimidated by me. Your resistance was quite impressive. And later, when you provoked me until I made love to you, and I realized that you actually did desire me sexually, and thought me physically attractive, I dared to allow myself to think you would want to join with me as well."

"So essentially, you’re saying you wanted me because I also wanted you, and because I was a hard-headed, stubborn, devious smartass, who you were having a lot of hot Wizard sex with," Welkin paraphrased.

"A bit too simplistic, but that is essentially correct," Snape confirmed. 

Welkin laughed her throaty laugh. "I like your style, my dear Professor. You really haven’t the slightest clue how to talk a woman off her feet, but you manage to get the job done anyway," she teased. "There are a few people who wonder what I see in you too," she informed him.

"More than a few," he nodded. "I am too well aware of that." 

"Well, fuck them. Who cares what they think?" 

"I would rather fuck you," Snape replied bluntly, his voice suddenly husky with his desire for her.

"What’s stopping you?" Her eyes dropped knowingly to his crotch because, what was really the point of pretending to ignore the growing bulge in his trousers? "It’s obvious that you’re up for the task. I think our intellectual discussion went off track anyway, don’t you?"

"We can resume it later, if you wish," Snape said. He grasped her, forcing her down on her back on the couch and straddling her. "Morgan le Fay was also known for having many lovers. Perhaps you have inherited her proclivities in this area?"

"Not for many lovers. Maybe for one in particular," she answered. "I read in the book you gave me that she offered herself to Merlin in exchange for his tutelage in magic."

"Are you suggesting a bargain such as that with me? I am your husband, Welkin. I have no need to strike such a bargain. You are mine already, and as I recall, Morgan did not abide by her bargain with the great Merlin."

"So I read." Welkin smiled up at him. "That must have been one _majorly_ pissed-off Wizard." 

She moved her hands to the waistband of his trousers and slowly unzipped his fly, sliding one hand inside to press against his hardness, stroking back and forth with her fingers. "You’re so long and hard, Severus. Does that feel good when I stroke you?"

"You know that it does, Morgana," he groaned, surprising her by using her middle name. "You like to torture me like this, don’t you?" He pushed her hand away and got off her, standing up. Snape removed his clothing piece by piece, piling it in a heap on the nearby chair, as she lay watching him.

When he stood naked before her, she smiled appreciatively. "Will you help me undress too?" she requested. He did not have to be asked twice. He undressed her slowly, carefully adding her clothes to the pile on the chair, then stood back to admire her pale skin against the black leather of the couch. He caressed with his gaze her gently sloping shoulders, slender arms with small-boned delicate wrists, and graceful long-fingered hands. Her rounded hips and breasts and firm, shapely legs, the ring of dark reddish-brown hair framing the lips of her glistening pussy, slickened by her desire for him - all of this was his for the asking and the taking.

Kneeling beside her on the couch, Snape slowly lowered himself until he was lying atop Welkin, his hardness pressing against the softness of her stomach. He captured her lower lip between his lips as he had envisioned, sucking and massaging it as his hands moved over her in long, smooth stroking motions. She parted her lips, and he plunged his tongue between them. When he was satisfied with his exploration of her mouth, he continued his assault on her senses at the sensitive areas at the base of her throat.

Welkin moaned and bucked against him, her nipples hardening against his chest. "Please, Severus...come into…my mind," she urged him.

"Are you sure?" he asked her, surprised by her request. She had always been reluctant to allow him to invade her mind as he invaded her body, and he had always respected her wishes, allowing her to retain that last vestige of privacy from him.

"I’m sure," she said, and moaned again before looking him in the eyes. "I want you inside me, body and mind. I want to share myself completely with you, and you with me."

Trembling with excitement at the prospect of being truly joined with her, Severus pulled her closer, as Welkin spread her legs for him, and he sank into her physically, pressing his face against her throat. "Leglimens," he pronounced as he thrust himself into her mind as well. 

"Leglimens," she repeated after him, focusing as he had taught her, and forcing her consciousness beyond her physical form to penetrate his mind and merge with him simultaneously.

Welkin wrapped her legs around him, rising rhythmically to meet his thrusts. A bright ball of light exploded inside her head as they fucked, and a kaleidoscope of images swirled in her head. Severus as a child, a youth, and a man - not just events, but emotions, swirling and coalescing inside her head. His love for his mother, and his fear of displeasing his grim, sternly critical father, his joy at discovering someone like himself when he found Lily, his longing to escape his life at Spinner’s End, and to be somebody who mattered to other people, not just to Lily.

Welkin felt the pain of his loss of Lily as a friend, and then the agony of her death, and the overwhelming guilt that followed. She felt the anger, and ever-present loneliness in the mind of Snape, the man, like the taste of a bitter herb. She felt his pride in himself, and his longing still to be someone who mattered, a man who accomplished great things, who was admired and respected.

When she saw herself through his eyes, she felt a potent new rush of love and happiness, tinged with apprehension and fear of the pain of new loss.

From a distance, she heard Severus call out her name, as a strong burst of love and pleasure exploded in her head. Welkin screamed out his name, and began to come.

* * *

When he penetrated her mind, at first Snape felt only Welkin’s intense, overpowering reaction to him in the present. It was a powerful cocktail of love, desire, and great overwhelming need, which buffeted him in a storm of emotion. As the intensity diminished, he felt other things; a complex mixture as soothing to his soul as a balm - admiration, fascination, jealousy and possessiveness, and a need to be always first in his regard.

Then the present gave way to the past. Images began to flash quickly. Welkin as a child, sad and bereft at the loss of her beloved pet songbird as she buried it, then bright and happy, discovering that if she laid her little hands across the mound, and thought at it with enough intensity of emotion that the bird revived, fluttering and flopping it’s way out of the sandy grave.

He felt her fear and disappointment at the anger of her mother, when she trustingly ran to show her the great miracle. "Look Mama, I prayed it alive!" Her mother shaking her by the arm and admonishing her not to tell - _never_ to tell. It was a sin that she had done, not a miracle.

Snape saw Welkin as an awkward young girl of perhaps ten or eleven, shy and timid, yet secretly proud of herself and her abilities, feeling somehow that she was special in a way she couldn’t describe, and a way that she knew others were not. He felt her childish pleasure when she sang to herself while she drew little sketches of the strange things from her imagination - castles, people transformed into animals or birds, and the strange man in the cloak, who she called her dark prince - the man she sometimes dreamed about - the man with glittering dark eyes, and a funny name that sounded like the hiss of a snake.

The adult Welkin and her memories of his interrogation of her displaced the young girl. Her warring emotions of fear, anger and rage bombarded him, combined with her arousal and attraction to him.

One final image formed in Snape’s mind as he neared his climax. He could feel what Welkin felt the night he had first possessed her. He felt her lust for him, her intense pleasure, and her shock of recognition and disbelief as her first orgasm washed over her, and she suddenly realized that he was the man she had dreamed of. He was the strange dark prince she had sometimes seen in her childhood dreams.

Snape called out Welkin’s name, and began to come as he gave one final powerful thrust to plunge himself deep inside her. 

Welkin’s voice joined his as their separate thoughts and emotions merged. For thirty seconds of perfection they were joined as one person, no longer separate.

* * *


	36. Fears, Fate and Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaxley takes his observations about Welkin to Voldemort. Severus attempts to teach Welkin a lesson about embarrassing him in public, with an unanticipated benefit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter also contains discussion of the original character, Julien Bell.

* * *

"Why did you not tell me that you had dreamed of me when you were a child?" Snape asked her in the aftermath of their joining. He had pulled Welkin down into his lap, and encircled her with his arms after they dressed, still feeling a strong need to stay connected with her.

"Honestly, I don’t know why. I guess when I first realized it, our relationship was so new that I didn’t want to throw anything strange like that into it, and then later on, I just honestly forgot about it, I was so caught up in us. I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you," Welkin told him. "In hindsight, our relationship was pretty strange from the beginning, so adding something like that to it probably couldn’t have made it any odder." 

"Is this why you were so certain that you were the woman I was meant to be with, Wells?" Severus asked, remembering the words she had used when she discovered that he had tricked her into becoming pregnant with their child.

"Maybe partly - but mostly I just know it. I think I always _have_ known it, from the first moment I woke up in your office and saw you holding out that cup of potion to me. It's like I'd always known that moment would come, and had been waiting for it. I was never more certain of anything in my life," Welkin asserted.

"From that first night, I also knew that you were the one I wanted for my own," Severus said, his lips warmly brushing her throat. "My dream has always been you. I did not always know that, but I know it now."

They both fell silent, still enjoying the feeling of connection, and Snape simply sat there, quietly cradling her in his arms for a long while, as Welkin snuggled contentedly in the arms of her Dark Prince.

* * *

They eventually compromised on Welkin’s performing at the _Hog’s Head_. She agreed that she would only perform one Friday and Saturday evening a month, instead of every weekend. She would also perform only one set of approximately two hours. 

Neither Aberforth nor Julien were happy about the change in plans, but Welkin no longer cared about that. Severus had finally admitted that his major objection to the job was that he wanted to spend time with her on the weekends, and the singing gig really would have cut into that time deeply, so Welkin determined that it had to be curtailed. Severus and she came first, above all other things. She would not let anything jeopardize their happiness. On this particular issue it was, as he would have said, 'most assuredly' in her interest to compromise with him.

Welkin also told Snape what she knew about Julien, which wasn’t actually a lot. His name was Julien Bell, and he came from a rather well-to-do pureblood family, who were disappointed that their eldest son had chosen music as a profession.

"Bell? His surname is Bell?" Snape asked. Of course, he thought. That was why he had seemed so familiar that first night they went to the _Hog’s Head_. 

Four years ago, Julien Bell had sought entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters, and made quite a pest of himself about it too. He had approached various people rumored to be members, none of whom had any interest in further feeding the gossip about themselves that threatened to expose them and their past activities. Needless to say, Bell’s quest had been unsuccessful.

Snape had not been one of those he had approached, but he had seen Bell with Lucius once in _Flourish and Blotts_. Lucius had been unimpressed with him, despite his pureblood status, telling Snape later that Bell had nothing to offer the Dark Lord by his service.

Snape wondered now if Bell had truly given up on his ill-conceived career choice, and replaced it with a musical career. He told Welkin of his concerns, advising her not to be too trusting of him.

"If he still wishes to become a Death Eater, he would do anything to impress Voldemort and those closest to him. If he discovered your secrets, he would hand you over to them in a heartbeat to gain their favor. Perhaps you should abandon this project completely after all," Snape told her.

"But I really don’t want to abandon it completely," Welkin said, even though she knew he was right. "I’ll just keep my mouth shut, and only talk about innocuous things with him. Since our practice sessions have been cut way back, it really shouldn’t be a problem, Severus. We mostly only talk about the music now anyway. I think everything will be okay since I promised not to try to spy anymore." She looked disappointed at that last concession she had made to him. "I really liked spying," she said a little mournfully.

"You are not very good at it," Snape bluntly informed her. "Your episode with Yaxley proved that. If I had not rescued you from his table when I did, I shudder to think of the consequences."

"Oh, please! You’re so full of yourself. Yaxley had _no idea_ what I was doing. He would have been singing his secrets like a canary in another few minutes, if you hadn’t interrupted," Welkin said smugly.

Snape discreetly waited until she had turned away from him before rolling his eyes at her.

* * *

"State your concerns quickly, Yaxley. I have only just returned from my travels, and I find myself somewhat fatigued. I had not intended to grant an audience to anyone this soon," Voldemort told him.

"Pardon me, My Lord, but I am concerned about some things I have been hearing about Severus Snape’s wife. I thought that you would want to know about it as soon as you returned," Yaxley replied apologetically.

"Severus’s wife? Ah yes, the Muggle bitch," he recalled. "What of her?" 

"There is something quite peculiar there, My Lord. There have been reports that she was seen using a wand to perform magic. If these reports are accurate, she is not a mere Muggle as you have been led to believe that she is."

"Using a wand? In what way?" 

"Dueling, My Lord. And by all accounts, she was quite good at it." Yaxley’s deep, gravelly voice had taken on an accusatory tone. "I took it upon myself to observe her personally by going to the _Hog’s Head Inn_ where she is now singing. The report of her opening debut is in this issue of the _Daily Prophet_." Yaxley handed the paper to Voldemort. "She seems uncommonly interested in you and your activities, My Lord, which I also found odd."

Interested in him? Voldemort’s snakelike eyes narrowed. And dueling with a wand? That _was_ odd. It didn’t sound at all like the woman he had met at Malfoy Manor. If his wife had magical abilities, why had Severus not told him this? There must be a reasonable explanation. Severus Snape was his most trusted and loyal servant. Be that as it may, the situation did require additional study, given this new information.

"Let’s not jump to conclusions, Yaxley," Voldemort told him. "Continue to monitor her. If you learn anything more, report to me immediately. You may leave me now," he said smoothly.

"As you wish, My Lord." Yaxley bowed to him, and then quickly exited. 

When Yaxley had left, Voldemort crossed to a chair and sat. He unfolded the paper he had been given, and read the report on Welkin’s opening. He made note of the sly innuendo the Skeeter woman had made concerning Welkin and her piano player, and perused the photograph. So…Snape’s Muggle knew magic. Perhaps she was not quite as useless, or as harmless, as she appeared to be.

Welkin turned in the photograph, her foot rising a little higher on the foot rail of the bar, and Voldemort saw the flash of bright pubic hair and her exposed genitals. He began to chuckle to himself. Snape’s slut was still up to her tricks, he observed. Severus must have given her quite a session of _'correction'_ when he saw this photo, and read of her new betrayal of him with the piano player. No wonder Snape guarded her like some rare treasure, when she continually gave him such opportunities to enjoy abusing that lush body of hers. The bitch must actually enjoy her punishment. Why else would she provoke Snape so often?

Perhaps Severus would not be averse to sharing that pleasure with him, if he decided to request it. He had missed his occasional private interludes with Bellatrix since she had been imprisoned at Azkaban. Of course, the things he had done to her during their more extended sessions had nearly unhinged her mind, but she had retained her slavish loyalty to him nonetheless. He would have to consider rewarding her in some way, when he arranged her release from that place. Not quite yet, however. There were other things to be attended to. The removal of Madam Amelia Bones from her post at the Ministry of Magic was one of the first items on his agenda.

* * *

It had been idyllic when Narcissa welcomed him back into her arms, and her bed, whenever he knocked on her door. Almost too good to be true, Lucius had thought. Sooner than he had expected, he discovered that it _was_ too good to be true. 

Despite his love for her, Lucius's boredom with Narcissa’s lack of inventiveness in the bedchamber returned, along with his urges for other women. He had already been unfaithful to her with one of his stable of beauties, and urges for one other woman in particular had strongly reasserted themselves in the past few days.

Lucius took out the well-worn copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and unfolded it to Welkin’s picture, waiting for the revealing moment. He pointed his wand and stopped motion on the image at the precise moment he desired. "By Salazar’s beard," he breathed. "I swear I will find a way to slither into that pussy of hers, or my name isn’t Lucius Malfoy."

* * *

Welkin had decided that she would end each of her performances at the _Hog’s Head_ with a dedication to Severus. She had developed an unfortunate tendency to tease him with songs selected especially to titillate him in this public venue. She thought it was funny. He often did not, although he would have thoroughly enjoyed the same performance if only she had elected to give it in private.

Tonight the song she chose was _I Touch Myself_ by the Divinyls. As she sang to him in her breathy voice, undulating and running her hands suggestively over her breasts and thighs in keeping with the tone of the lyrics, Snape occupied his mind with other things as best he could. Though Welkin was totally unconcerned about what other people thought of her, Severus did not really want to become obviously aroused in plain view of this crowd, or any person other than Welkin herself, for that matter.

The music seemed to go on forever, though in reality it was only a three minute song. When it was over, Snape breathed a sigh of relief. His reputation was still intact, thanks to his prodigious control.

Welkin thanked everyone for their applause, and then cheerfully bounced over to their table, where Florinda promptly brought them two glasses of firewhisky.

"Did you like tonight’s dedication?" Welkin grinned. "Did it…pump you up?" she asked innocently.

"Wells, you have a very perverse sense of humour at times," Snape replied, sipping his drink. "It may backfire on you one of these days. Perhaps sooner than you think," he said cryptically.

"Sevvy, I have no idea what you’re talking about." Welkin gulped half her drink, and made a face at the burning sensation in her throat.

Even though Violet had agreed to keep Sully all night on the two evenings a month that Welkin sang, and that meant they could stay out as late as they wished, after her second firewhisky Welkin told Severus she was getting tired, and they ought to head home.

"I do not think we will be able to," Snape said calmly. "Do you not hear the thunderstorm? It has been raining like that since shortly after you began your singing, and there is no sign of it letting up anytime soon."

"Can’t we just Apparate home to Hogwarts?" 

"It does not always work well in weather such as this," he informed her, stretching the truth to accommodate his wishes.

Florinda appeared to collect their glasses, and tossed Snape a key. "Ab-ferth sayes yer room is ready fer y’uns." She thanked him profusely for the tip he gave her, and left a bottle and two relatively clean glasses for him, which he calmly pocketed as he stood up.

"Come, Welkin. It is time for bed," he announced. He handed her the bottle of firewhisky, and pulled her to her feet. "I have arranged for a room upstairs for the night."

"Here? You’re kidding, aren’t you?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You said this place was crawling with vermin. We can’t stay here."

"We have very little choice," Snape told her, using his hand at the small of her back to propel her towards the stairs. "It is a veritable deluge out there, Welkin. It will at least be dry upstairs."

He pushed her along up two flights of stairs, and down a long, dark hallway, then up another shorter group of steps, to a lone locked door. "We have the attic room," Snape explained. "It will be much more private." He unlocked the door with the key and pushed it open, making a gallant sweeping gesture with his hand to invite her inside. "After you, my sweet."

Welkin hesitantly walked in to find, to her surprise, not a haven for fleas and mice, but a relatively cozy attic room with rough, unvarnished hardwood floors, a roaring fire in the fireplace, and three small windows with heavy diamond-shaped panes of leaded glass, down the outside of which rain from the thunderstorm was profusely streaming. Lightning flashes and crashes of thunder came at close intervals, and she could hear the sound of the rain beating down incessantly on the metal roof.

"This is actually not bad, Sevvy," Welkin announced, sounding relieved. "It’s even romantic." Welkin decided that must be what he intended, since there was a fireplace, and they could obviously use that method to return home if they wanted to. He was so sweet to arrange to turn the storm into an excuse for this romantic little interlude for them.

"Good. I am glad you approve," he said, opening the bottle of firewhisky and pouring her another stiff drink.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, and take advantage of me?" she asked, taking a deep sip from her glass.

Snape smiled at her, and downed his own rather full glass in one draught. "Yes, I am. I most certainly have designs on you tonight." He waved his hand, and spoke an incantation. Her clothing disappeared. "Get into bed please, Wells. I have something special planned."

Welkin threw back the coverlet and blanket on the bed, and dived under them, pulling them both up under her chin, eagerly awaiting his special surprise for her. Apparently not wanting to waste any more time, Snape removed his own clothing in the same way that he had done to hers, and joined her, letting her snuggle against him.

"So, what special thing are we doing?" Welkin asked.

Snape smiled at her, and put his mouth to her ear, whispering into it what he had in mind.

"Pardon? I don’t think I heard that correctly," Welkin said. At least, she hoped she hadn’t.

Snape whispered it again, and arched an eyebrow at her expectantly, watching her face for her reaction.

"You’re going to what? Oh no, you’re not!" 

"It is one of your fantasies, Wells. A very stimulating one for me as well," he informed her with a smirk. "I have been quite looking forward to it, since it occurred to me that it is something we have not done yet."

"Well, you can just forget about that one. Your cock is way too big to even attempt that. No way am I letting you do that."

"If you will just be easy in your mind about it, I am quite sure that it will fit. I will work it in slowly, Welkin. I am quite patient, and I will take my time. Of course, it most probably will hurt a bit, since I am rather large, but as you get used to it, I am sure that you will begin to enjoy it. I have brought some special lubricant which I developed especially for you in the Potions Lab to ease your discomfort, and I have a pain potion for you for afterwards."

"How _thoughtful_ of you," Welkin said sarcastically. "You just have every little detail planned, don't you? Except for one little thing. I'm taking myself right out of your grand scheme and equation. I'm not going to. We can do something else instead."

Snape produced a small metal tin, which she had not noticed before, and removed the lid. "Turn over please, so that I may apply this lubricant."

Welkin was looking at him aghast. "Severus, put that away," she said slowly. "I said no, and I _mean_ no. There will be no ass fucking tonight, or any other night," she said slowly. "Am I not making myself clear to you?"

"Very clear, my sweet. You are shy about this, and wish me to overcome your natural reserve. Very well…" 

Before he could grab her, Welkin leapt from the bed and backed away from him as he followed her.

"Now, Welkin, why are you resisting this?" he chided her. "You are usually so eager to try new things, my sweet." The shocked look on her face was priceless, and he couldn’t help smiling, immediately giving himself away.

"You’re joking?" He _was_ joking, Welkin realized at last. "You asshole! That wasn’t funny!" 

"Neither was your attempt to embarrass me in public with your song selection tonight," he said. "Perhaps now you will concede my point when I tell you that such things are meant to be private."

"I don’t see what one has to do with the other. Singing and ass fucking are two completely different things," she informed him haughtily, heading for the table with the firewhisky and their glasses on it. She definitely needed a drink after a scare like that.

She sat down and finished what was left in her glass, then poured herself another. "Do you want one?" He nodded and she poured him a stiff drink as well.

"Sevvy…did you ever do that to one of the prostitutes you visited?" 

He took a big gulp of his drink, and sat down across from her. "Yes, I did." 

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, but not from embarrassment. The chair was cold on his bare ass, although Welkin seemed quite comfortable - perhaps because she had extra padding on her feminine posterior, and was better insulated.

"Did you like it?" 

"Yes, I did. Although I was required to pay extra for the privilege, and, even then, the hired woman was a bit skittish about my...dimensions." 

Welkin frowned a bit, and sat considering the disquieting news that another woman had given Severus pleasure in a way that she had refused to. Never mind that the woman was paid to do it. It only mattered to Welkin that she had given him something that Welkin was afraid to give him. Not that she minded a little bit of pain, if there was also pleasure mixed in with it. She loved it when Severus was rough with her everywhere else. But her ass was another matter. If only he wasn’t so large, maybe she wouldn’t be so nervous about trying it. It _was_ one of her fantasies, as he’d said, but Severus had only inserted his finger or thumb inside that tender orifice up to this point, certainly not anything as big as his penis.

Snape could see that she was thinking hard about what he had said, and he looked at her quizzically, encouraging her to speak by his own expression.

Welkin took another gulp of her drink to bolster her resolve, and stood up abruptly, having made her decision. "Okay, I’m ready!" she announced. If another woman had done it for him, by God, she would do it for him even better!

"Ready for?" Snape prodded, wanting to be sure that she meant what he thought she meant.

"Ready to get my ass fucked, of course. I’ll try it, but if it really hurts a lot, you have to stop. Just put the head in first, and don’t go any further until I say so! Do you agree to that?"

It appeared that Snape's lesson for Welkin on public embarrassment was about to yield an unanticipated private benefit to him. This was certainly not the outcome that Snape had expected when he set up this little joke on her, but he was not about to discourage Welkin’s sudden bravery, and willingness to literally put her ass on the line for him. The prospect of being the only one to ever possess her in this way was far too exciting to him not to take advantage of the opportunity she had just presented to him.

"Of course, my sweet. I would never wish to hurt you. I will be especially careful." 

Translation: I won't go at you like a pile driver, like I normally do, Welkin thought.

"Good. Then let me suck it a little first. That'll get me so hot, maybe I won't feel as nervous about this." 

Snape’s cock was already starting to rise in anticipation when Welkin went to sit on the edge of the bed, and he approached her with it, placing one hand on the back of her head as he guided it into her mouth. She spread her legs and reached down to play with herself as she enthusiastically sucked and licked his cock and balls. "Ahh…ahhh, yes…suck it, Wells," Snape urged, with great pleasure. She was so good at pleasing him like this.

He put both hands on the back of her head. "Hold still now," he instructed, and began to pump himself in and out of her mouth, sliding across her wet tongue and down her throat as she made little gagging noises, but managed to take nearly his full length. She stopped playing with herself, and reached around him to grasp his butt cheeks as he pumped himself into her.

"Fuck, yes! Wells…that feels so good. Open your mouth…wider." He tilted her head back slightly and bent over her, driving himself in and out harder and much faster, his balls slapping against her chin. If her mouth wasn’t full she would tell him how hot this was making her, Welkin thought. She was dripping wet already.

Snape pulled out of her mouth with a groan of approval, a thick trail of spittle stringing from the end of his cock to dribble onto her chin. She coughed to clear her throat and gasped for air, then looked up at him. "Fuck my pussy first, please," she instructed.

He turned her around on the bed, positioned on the edge of it on her knees, her legs spread. Snape guided his cock into her sopping wet pussy. "Oh fuck, yes, fuckfuckfuck yes!" she chanted as he rode her, grasping her hips to steady her and hold her in place. "Your ass is mine next," he whispered provocatively. "I’m going to fuck that tight ass of yours, that no one else has touched except me. You want that, don’t you?"

"Uhn…uhn…yes. I _want_ that," she moaned her response as he continued to plunge into her. 

"Tell me what you want, Welkin. Say the words. Tell me: Sir, I want you to fuck my ass." Snape had gone into role-playing mode, consistent with her fantasy, Welkin suddenly realized.

"Yes, Sir…Sir, I want you to…Uhn…ohfuck!…I want you to fuckmyass!" she finished in a rush.

"Professor Snape, Sir, I want you to put your cock deep into my ass, please," he coached in his clipped British accent, as he pulled his cock out of her pussy, and rubbed it against her exposed asshole.

"Say it," he insisted. He reached to retrieve the tin of ointment from the nightstand, and dipped two fingers into it for a generous amount.

"Professor Snape, Sir, please put your great big cock in my ass," Welkin groaned. She tensed up as his fingers spread the ointment around the entrance and then dipped inside, greasing the way.

"Do not make yourself tense. Relax, Miss Cooper. This lesson will be much more instructive and pleasant for you, if you will simply relax and leave everything to me." 

The fantasy that they were not married, and that he was the opportunistic Professor taking advantage of her, was one of her favorites and made Welkin particularly hot, Snape knew from more than ample experience.

"Yes, Professor. I’ll try. Give me a moment, please." Welkin inhaled and exhaled a few times, and tried to relax.

She felt a twinge as he slowly pressed the head of his cock inside her. "You see. That is not so bad, is it?" he asked in his silken voice. He slid another inch inside and groaned deeply at how tight it was. Welkin felt pressure and a sensation of being stretched, but no appreciable pain. So far this wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be.

"Are you ready to proceed?" he asked her, as he had promised he would. 

"Yes, Sir. I’m okay. Go ahead, Sir," she gave her permission. 

"And now, my dear Miss Cooper, let us try for ten points for Slytherin House. Put your head down and brace yourself," he instructed, forcing her head down on the bed, which lifted her ass higher, at just the right angle for him. He began to slowly work himself in and out, sinking his throbbing cock a little farther into her each time. 

The stretching sensation began to be a lot more uncomfortable. "Stop! Stop! Don’t put any more in! Let me rest for a second!"

"It will only be more uncomfortable if I stop. If I continue, it will become easier. Trust me, Wells. I will not penetrate to the maximum." He broke character to reassure her.

"Okay…I trust you not to get too carried away." She braced herself again. "Go ahead…Professor…Sir… fuck my lily white ass for Slytherin."

Snape smiled at the way she had phrased the request, and continued his movements, very slowly at first and then, when he had managed to insert at least a good six inches, he increased his speed to a steady fucking rhythm, and reached between her legs to find her clit. If she was receiving pleasure there, he knew that the discomfort of his reaming of her posterior would be lessened.

The tingling between her legs from Severus’s manipulations started feeling really good, and Welkin focused on that. The other less delicate invasion slowly started to feel a little better as she relaxed, excited by the sensations in her pussy.

"Oh yeah…that feels a lot better," she said. "It’s really tight for you, isn’t it? I can feel every vein on your cock right now, rubbing against my insides. In and out…in and out…mmmmmm yeah…a little faster please, Sir."

Snape increased his speed as she requested. "Yes, my dear Miss Cooper. Your 'lily white ass' is very tight indeed, and I shall be coming inside it very soon. If you can manage to come before I do, I shall award fifteen points to Slytherin instead of the customary ten."

Always up for a challenge, Welkin reached between her own legs, where Severus was already busy, and inserted one of her own fingers alongside his, beginning to frig herself with it. He rubbed her clit faster and faster. Severus was groaning in rhythm with the strokes of his penis, and the sound of his voice behind her excited her. She frigged herself faster, and pictured the way it would look if she could see behind herself while she was being fucked. Then she pictured how it would look to someone else if they were watching it, and that thought finally sent her over the edge. 

"Ahhhhhhhhh….Sevvy, oh, oh…ahhhhhhh." She beat him to the orgasm by mere seconds, as he suddenly stopped stroking and she felt him spasm inside her, groaning in pleasurable agony, until he finally pulled out and shot the rest of his load across her buttocks.

Their contest at an end, Snape collapsed on his back beside her as she rolled over onto her back as well. The storm was still raging outside, but she hadn’t even noticed it. Welkin rolled against him in post-orgasmic contentment, and he encircled her in his arms, as he always did.

"That was _really_ nasty!" Welkin announced. "Was I better than the prostitute was?" 

"Much better," Snape told her truthfully. "Because I knew that you were doing it for me, even though you did not really want to very much, did you?"

"Not at first, I didn’t. But it was actually really sexy after I got my thoughts in the right place. It’s not something I’d want to do often, because I am sore right now, and to be honest, I got more out of the frontal stimulation than the rear. Mentally the idea of ass fucking is pretty stimulating though. You're not disgusted that I let you do that to me, are you, Sevvy?"

"Of course not, Wells. Nothing we do together will ever disgust me. I am not a prude," he declared loftily. "But I shall not request this of you again. It will be your choice. If you should ever desire me to provide this experience for you again, you may feel free to ask me for it. Do you need the potion for your soreness, my love?"

"No thanks, it’s not that sore, sweetie. Just when I move certain ways, and I feel a little bit like I need to pass gas right now. You’d better be glad that I hadn’t eaten a lot of beans at supper," she laughed.

"That is very sophomoric humour, Wells," Snape told her, smiling at her anyway. 

She grinned at him, strained a little, and let out a tiny fart. "That's better. That’s my final commentary on ass fucking," she giggled.

Snape grimaced and waved his hand in the air, pretending to dispel the odor. "I cannot for the life of me imagine why anyone would think that you are not my intellectual equal," he teased.

"You owe Slytherin House fifteen points," Welkin reminded him, changing the subject. "I started to come at least fifteen seconds before you did."

"That wager was a joke, Wells. I cannot give Slytherin House points on the basis of your sexual performances. Although I do favor them already, that would be too much of an unfair advantage. They would win the House Cup every year."

Welkin looked pleased at his flattery, and rewarded him with a kiss. "Let’s get under the covers and listen to the storm," she suggested.

"As you wish, my pet." Snape stood and lifted the covers for her to crawl under, and then joined her. They grew drowsy and fell asleep in each other's arms, listening to the rain drumming on the rooftop.

* * *


	37. Slytherin Is As Slytherin Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape objects to Welkin's efforts to matchmake Aberforth Dumbledore with Minerva McGonagall. Lucius Malfoy executes phase one of his plan to slither into Welkin's bed.

* * *

"How are Harry’s Occlumency lessons going?" 

"With great difficulty," Snape complained. "Mr. Potter does not apply himself. He thinks only of his dislike of me. I only hope that what little progress there has been will be enough."

Welkin stood beside Snape at his desk in his Potions Lab office, watching him curiously, and reading along as he scribbled notes on a parchment. She didn’t bother to point out that he himself was probably responsible for some of Harry’s antagonistic attitude towards him.

"I’m sure you’re doing the best you can with him." Welkin gave his shoulder a comforting little squeeze. "It’s plain enough that he doesn’t trust you. Maybe he never will. I know nothing good that I’ve said to him about you seems to make the slightest difference. He never says anything bad about you to me, at least, not since we’ve been married. He just always looks at me like he thinks that I’m deluding myself about you. I don’t know what Albus expects you to do with a big hindrance like Harry’s negative attitude towards you. You’re the best there is at Occlumency, but you’re not a miracle worker."

Welkin moved her hand up to his hair, and ran her fingers through it. 

"Am I disturbing you? I can stop if I am," Welkin said. She liked playing with his hair, but she didn’t want to be a pest about it.

"No. You are not disturbing me," Snape said. He liked the way Welkin's fingers felt in his hair, and he particularly liked what she had said about him being the best there was at Occlumency. "You may continue," he graciously gave his permission.

Welkin smiled indulgently at his mildly pompous sounding acquiescence to her attentions to him, and changed the subject again. "What about all those prisoners that escaped from Azkaban a few weeks ago? Has the Ministry had any luck in rounding them up?"

"No. They are hampered by their refusal to see the escape as connected to the return of the Dark Lord. They are such fools!" Snape put down his quill, and looked up at her. "Sometimes I wonder why I continue to provide the information that I do, since they pay such little heed to it."

"You can’t look at it like that, Sevvy. Maybe the idea of Voldemort being back just scares them too much, or for some, maybe they just want to pretend he’s not back because if they acknowledge it, then they might actually be expected to _do something_ about it. Or maybe they’re just too complacent with things the way they are. Sooner or later they won’t be able to deny it anymore," Welkin concluded. "Albus certainly trusts you and your opinions, and his regard for you carries a lot of weight with most of the other members of the Order, I think," she added.

"Perhaps," Snape responded, not entirely convinced, but considering what she had said.

He stood up to face her, and put a hand against her jaw, tilting her face up to look into her eyes. "You are a great comfort to me, do you know that?"

"During the ten percent of the time when I’m not being a pain in your ass?" she asked.

"Even when you are being difficult. Perhaps especially when you are challenging me. Your belief in me is always a great comfort, but you also point out things that I sometimes do not see, or consider to be significant." He suddenly bent to kiss her.

"Mmmmm," Welkin responded, giving an appreciative little wiggle, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Those talented magical lips of yours make me wish I didn’t have Transfiguration practice with Minerva in thirty minutes." She gave him her dreamy, somewhat lustful look.

"Perhaps you could skip it today?" Snape asked, kissing her again. It was a most uncharacteristic suggestion for him to make, since he usually thought that her studies came first, sometimes even above himself or Sullivan.

"I really wish I could, but nope - afraid not. My slave-driving martinet of a husband wouldn’t like it. He’s a terrible nag when it comes to me attending _all_ of my classes, and not just the ones I like," Welkin teased, referring to their numerous past discussions over her dislike and avoidance of her broom flight lessons.

"You do not like Transfiguration?" 

"That’s not what I meant. Of course I like it. Minerva’s a good teacher. I’d just like it a lot more if I could turn into something myself once in a while, instead of always turning toads into things, or things into toads. Toads, toads, and more toads! What is it with her and toads anyway? She's positively obsessed with them!"

"She is classically trained. Toads are quite traditional," Snape said. "To transform yourself at will, you would have to be an Animagus," he said.

"Morgan le Fay was one," Welkin noted. 

"It is not an inherited trait," Snape pointed out. "It is a skill which requires much study and practice."

"I know, but that particular skill would be very useful. If I could turn myself into a bird like Morgan could, then I wouldn’t have to take broom flight classes anymore, and make a big fucking fool out of myself day in and day out," Welkin complained.

"Your fear of heights is most persistent," Snape observed. "Do you not have an idea what has made you so fearful?"

"No clue at all. Maybe something happened to me when I was small, and I just don’t remember it. I just know that it truly terrifies me," Welkin said.

"But you said that you have ridden in the Muggle aeroplanes and that did not disturb you," Snape stated. "Is riding a broom that different?"

"Yes! In the airplanes, I was enclosed. I couldn’t feel the wind rushing around me. It just _felt_ safer, whether it really was or not. When I’m on a broom, or if I’m standing outside in a high area looking down, or even coming down a staircase here at Hogwarts, if I’m not on the side next to the wall or holding onto the banister, I feel like I might just suddenly go over the edge! It makes me panic! I don’t know how to explain it other than that," Welkin said, her voice thick with her frustration. It didn't help that the staircases at Hogwarts sometimes shifted without warning, adding to her ever-present anxiety about falling.

"You must continue to try to master your fear, Welkin. It is very important, otherwise I would not insist. Other methods of transportation might not always be available to you, and I may not always be there when you need to fly. You must learn this basic method of transportation for your own benefit," Snape insisted.

"I know," Welkin agreed with grim resignation. "Well, at least there’s one bright spot in all of this for someone. Neville Longbottom can take pride that he’s no longer the most pathetic student that Madam Hooch ever had - I am."

* * *

"Minerva’s going to come with us the next time I sing at the _Hog’s Head_ ," Welkin informed him.

"Why?" Snape asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her. 

"Because I asked her," she replied much too innocently, and changed the subject, as she usually did when she did not want to be questioned too closely about her motives. 

"Sully, do you want Daddy to rock you to sleep?" Sully kicked and squealed loudly in response, apparently thinking that was a fine idea.

"Here, Daddy." Welkin handed the baby to him. "Sully says you’re on rocking duty tonight. You take the rocker, and I’ll take your nice plush, comfy chair."

"Why did you invite her, Welkin?" Snape asked, refusing to be distracted from his line of questioning so easily. He deposited himself in the rocking chair, settled in, and began the soothing back and forth movement to lull Sully to sleep. "This does not have anything to do with Aberforth Dumbledore does it?"

"Geez! Can’t I even invite a friend to come see me sing without you getting all suspicious?" Welkin huffed. She slumped into his favorite reading chair sideways, her bare legs thrown over the side of one chair arm, and her arms folded.

"That is not an answer to my question," he persisted. "Does it, or does it not, have anything to do with your ridiculous idea of promoting a relationship between Minerva and Aberforth Dumbledore?"

"Oh, alright! Aberforth told me he thought she was a handsome woman, so I invited her to come with us. What’s the harm in that?"

"The harm is that you did not tell Minerva the real reason you invited her," Snape said.

"Don’t be so sanctimonious. Aren’t you the same guy who was perfectly willing to get me drunk at the Weasleys' Christmas bash, just so you could weasel your way back into my bed?"

"Bedding you was most certainly _not_ the primary reason," Snape said defensively, sounding quite offended at the suggestion that all he was interested in from her was sex.

"I know it wasn’t, sweetie," Welkin acknowledged, her voice taking on a much gentler and more loving tone. "My point is just that, I think that you can’t always take the moral high ground to get the desired result."

"Sometimes I think that you are much more Slytherin than I am," Snape said slowly and thoughtfully.

"Really? I’ll take that as a compliment." Welkin smiled and spread her legs apart a little more on the chair arm, making her robe open wider so that Snape could see that she wasn’t wearing a nightgown underneath.

"Are you trying to tell me that I’m devious, like the Sorting Hat said I was? That I purposely and _deviously_ do things to provoke the reaction that I want from people? Like…"

She nonchalantly raised one leg until her foot was on the chair arm, her leg bent at the knee. "…now, for instance?" She grinned at Snape, knowing that he could clearly see her exposed pussy now, but couldn’t do a thing about it, since Sully was still wide awake and clambering for his attention.

"Quite devious, and much too fond of teasing me to distraction, as you are attempting to do now," Snape responded truthfully, but not unkindly, and with no hint of real annoyance at her.

"Only _attempting_? Not succeeding? I must be losing my touch." 

Welkin smiled at Snape innocently, and slowly started to slide her hand up her inner thigh.

"I think you’d better rock a little faster, Daddy. Mama's getting a little bit bored over here all by herself."

* * *

Snape glared at the goat, and tried to firmly nudge it away from himself with his knee, mindful that Aberforth Dumbledore would not approve of any harsher action that he might wish to take to discourage the animal’s encroachment.

"Why am I the only one at this table who is constantly plagued with this creature?" Snape demanded of Welkin. "Have you trained this animal to pursue me as some sort of misguided attempt at humour? It is not in the least bit amusing, I can assure you," he frowned.

"Oh, I don’t know about that, Severus," Minerva responded. "It really _is_ a bit amusing to me." She raised a hand to her mouth as if trying to suppress her smile at the sight of his discomfort. Animals had never been particularly fond of Severus Snape, from what she could tell from her years with him at Hogwarts. But this little black goat was relentless in its pursuit of him.

"Personally, I’m a little bit jealous," Welkin told him. "She’s just so devoted to you, and she does seem to make a beeline for you every time that you come in here with me. God forbid if I should try to kiss you in front of her. I think she might attack me if I did. Apparently, Persephone thinks she’s your soul mate. Look at those big brown eyes looking at you so adoringly. How can you not respond to devotion like that?"

Snape ignored both Welkin and Persephone the goat, concentrating on his firewhisky instead. He was at least happy to see that Welkin was now dressing much more conservatively for her performances at the _Hog’s Head_. The crimson red top she wore tonight was still form-fitting but did not reveal undue cleavage, and she wore black jeans tucked into flat-bottomed knee-high black boots. There was no chance of a repeat of that unfortunate display of her privates which had accidentally occurred on her opening night. The crotchless knickers which Snape had purchased for her had been retired from everyday wear, and were only brought out of the lingerie drawer on special occasions now, for Severus’s personal enjoyment.

Welkin was also no longer trying to make her public song dedication to him something which was designed to titillate him to the point of embarrassment.

As he tallied his blessings, Snape began to feel a lot better about the evening. Welkin was behaving more like a proper wife in public, while retaining her saucy demeanor in private. Yaxley was nowhere in evidence tonight. Julien Bell had not rudely ensconced himself at their table before Welkin performed, as he had begun to make an unfortunate habit of doing lately. Other than the goat that was besotted with him, all was well in Severus Snape’s world tonight. With any luck, it would stay that way.

The thought had no sooner left his mind than the front door of the _Hog’s Head_ opened, and in walked Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy was resplendent in his custom-tailored black cashmere frock coat, a mossy green and silver striped silk cravat, and assorted snake design jewelry. Lucius made a great show of being surprised to see them there, and strode over to their table confidently.

"How delightful to run into you here tonight, Severus, Minerva, Welkin," he greeted them each with a nod. "I was attending to some business in town, and thought that I might stop in here for a drink before returning to the manor. I had no idea it was a performance night for Welkin," he lied. "How fortuitous, since Cissy and I did so enjoy your opening night performance, Welkin. I wish Cissy was with me, but she’s entertaining family tonight."

Snape knew exactly which family he was referring to, since Bellatrix Lestrange had been among the prisoners who escaped from Azkaban recently.

Lucius waved the waitress over, and ordered a new round of drinks, using the end of his cane to prod the goat, which let out an indignant bleat, and at last abandoned Snape’s side. It scurried away into a corner. Lucius pulled out the chair next to Snape, and seated himself at their table without being asked. He raised his glass of whisky in a toast, smiling at them all. "To old friends, and pleasant companions," he offered.

* * *

Welkin had invited Aberforth Dumbledore to sit down with them at the table after he brought over a particularly fine bottle of elf wine from his private stock, and he was now deep in conversation with Minerva, much to the surprise of both Snape and Lucius. Aberforth was not known for being erudite, or even very much concerned with reading or academic scholarship at all. That a learned and talented witch such as Minerva apparently found him interesting was somewhat astounding to them both.

Aberforth cleans up really well, Welkin thought. His hair and beard had been washed and trimmed neatly. His clothes were clean, if not elegant like Malfoy’s, and he smelled not of goat and whisky tonight, but of a lightly scented cologne somewhat reminiscent of lemon verbena. He was actually quite striking in a rough, masculine way, she thought. The lines around his clear blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at the stories Minerva was relating to him in her slight Scottish brogue.

Welkin arched her eyebrows at Snape in an _‘I told you so’_ way, before excusing herself to start her performance.

Lucius took Welkin’s absence from the table, and Aberforth’s and Minerva’s engrossment with each other, as the opportunity to mend fences with Severus. He laid a hand on Snape’s shoulder.

"Severus, I would like you to know that I bear no ill will for the incident at the Burrow. You were quite justified in your anger, and I very much regret my error in pursuing Welkin. I do hope there will be no permanent damage to our friendship as a result of this unfortunate misunderstanding."

"Not as long as your insulting, unwanted attentions to my wife have ceased for good," Snape told him bluntly. The truth was that Severus would never fully trust Lucius around Welkin ever again, but his duties as a spy for Dumbledore and the Order dictated that he needed to convince Lucius that there had been no permanent rift between them, if at all possible.

"Yes, of course they have," Lucius assured him, withdrawing his hand, and placing it in his pocket. "Cissy and I are quite happy these days. I find myself completely disinterested in other women, much to my surprise." He laughed rakishly. "Your Welkin is quite safe."

He and Severus paused to listen, as Welkin sang her first song of the evening. 

"Please don’t take this the wrong way," Lucius continued, as Welkin went into her second song. "But I have to compliment you on your selection of Welkin as your wife. I was a bit taken aback when I thought she was a mere Muggle, but Draco tells me she is far from that, and her dueling is superb. You knew about her magical skills from the beginning, I suppose?"

"Of course," Snape replied. There was no sense in trying to deny that Welkin was a witch, since Lucius already knew about her. "Did you really think that I would marry a Muggle, and dilute my bloodline even further?"

"No…no…of course not," Lucius agreed. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Your secret is safe with me, of course. The Dark Lord will never hear it from my lips, and I have instructed Draco to tell no one else, not even his mother. I’m sure you must have your own very good reasons for not wanting him to know. I do wish I could tell Bella though. She arrived at the manor several days ago, and was quite incensed at the news that you had married so beneath yourself. Of course, it also did not help that the Dark Lord extolled Welkin’s…physical attributes in front of her."

Lucius smiled to himself at the memory. Bella had been positively livid after Voldemort departed, and she had ranted about Welkin for an hour afterwards, calling the woman she had never met a 'filthy Muggle whore'.

Snape regarded Lucius silently, refusing to provide any further information, but now worried at the implications of both Voldemort’s and Bella’s interest being drawn to Welkin.

"Yes…well…let’s just enjoy the music then, shall we?" Lucius turned his attention back to Welkin. With one hand he calmly sipped his firewhisky. With the other hand in the pocket of his jacket, he fingered the small stoppered bottle of potion that he had come to town to purchase from a reliable source who did not ask questions as long as the price was right. Tonight was not the night. But soon, very soon, Lucius thought to himself.

He smiled politely at his long-time friend and colleague - Severus Snape - the only man who was truly welcome in Welkin’s bed. With the help of the Polyjuice Potion in his pocket, and the hair he had managed to pluck from Severus when he placed his hand on his shoulder, Lucius Malfoy had every intention of becoming that man.

* * *


	38. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin taste the results of their collaboration on Welkin's 'health drink' idea. Snape treats Welkin to a weekend trip to London. Lucius Malfoy executes the second phase of his plan to bed Welkin.

* * *

Snape took a sip of the green 'health drink' which Welkin and he had collaborated on for a number of weeks. He arched an eyebrow in surprise. Despite the unappetizing way that it looked, it was actually quite tasty. Perhaps something could be done to improve the muddled green color, but otherwise it was quite acceptable.

"It’s good, isn’t it?" Welkin said, and took a bigger gulp from her own glass. The concentrated vanilla and the cinnamon she had used masked the strong flavor of the crushed mistletoe, and assorted other healing herbs which they had combined.

Crushed mistletoe alone might be poisonous if taken regularly in undiluted quantities, but in combination with the other herbs, it would function more homeopathically - at least, that was Welkin’s theory.

The ancient Druids had attributed all sorts of miraculous powers to mistletoe, even going so far as to believe that an infusion of it in water would do things like enhance fertility or protect the drinker from any form of poison.

Welkin’s grandmother had made similar notations in her last journal which, as Albus had predicted, Welkin was finding to be a fascinating read. She had even begun a set of journals of her own; one with copious notes on spells, her studies and experimental theories, and the other a far more personal account of her life with Severus in the Wizarding World.

"We’ll both drink a glass of this every day," Welkin told Snape. "After a suitable trial period - maybe a year or so - assuming it hasn’t harmed us, and actually exhibits evidence of health-giving properties, maybe we can market it to the public. This could be the greatest thing that’s hit the Wizarding World since…well…I don’t know when, since I haven’t really been here that long…but it could be huge! We could be sitting in the catbird seat with this, Severus! People would buy it just for the taste alone - never mind the health benefits!"

"That is yet to be seen, but what I _have_ observed during the duration of this project, is that you are exhibiting more and more Slytherin qualities by the day," Snape told her, sounding pleased. "Your focus and effort on this project was quite impressive. I am very proud of you, Welkin."

Welkin blushed under his scrutiny and praise, something she did not often do. 

"You keep me focused," she told him. "I couldn’t have finished it without you working on it with me." She looked at him quite seriously. "I like working on things with you. We make a pretty good team, don’t you think?" she asked, hoping he thought so too.

Snape clasped her hand, and brought it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with her as he did. A tingle of pleasure went through her as his lips brushed lightly against her skin.

"Yes, we do make a good team, in every way, my love," he agreed, melting her heart. "It is my greatest desire to have such collaboration with you in every area of our lives for a very, very long time."

* * *

"We’re going to London?" Welkin repeated after Snape. She clapped her hands together rapidly several times with approval, bounced up and down slightly on the balls of her feet, and smiled with delight at him. "When? Soon?"

"It will be my Valentine’s gift to you this year. We shall attend a performance of the play you mentioned when we first discussed your health drink."

" _Our_ health drink, Severus," she corrected, giving him equal credit. "Do you mean _Phantom of the Opera_?"

"Yes. I have managed to procure two excellent seats at the theatre. I shall take you shopping at _Harrod’s_ for evening attire, and we shall attend the play, and then enjoy a late supper in one of the private parlour rooms at _The Leaky Cauldron_. I have arranged for a room upstairs at the inn, and we shall stay overnight before returning to Hogwarts the following morning," he told her, sounding very pleased with himself for the detailed arrangements he had made. He had always been good with details.

Barefoot, a normal state for her when she was at home in their chambers, Welkin stood on tiptoe, and put her arms around his neck. "You’re so sweet to me sometimes, Sevvy. It _almost_ makes up for all those other times when you treat me like you do your students."

"Very amusing, Wells," he said, knowing that she was only teasing him again. 

"What about the rest of the evening?" Welkin asked. "Do you have anything special planned for that? Or are you getting bored with me?"

"I am terribly bored with you, but I have no other sexual options at the moment, unless you count Persephone the goat, and I would prefer not to, thank you," Snape told her. "You will just have to do, tedious and tiring though you may be. Perhaps you might take charge of planning that portion of our evening?" He looked at her hopefully, counting on her fertile imagination in that area. He was good at details, but Welkin was definitely the creative one in their pairing.

Welkin laughed. "I’m glad to hear that you prefer me over a goat. I was beginning to worry that her charms were starting to win you over. Hmmmm…just let me think about it. I’ll try not to disappoint you, husband of mine," she promised.

She curled her fingers around the collar of his jacket, and drew him down to her lips for a deep kiss that made his heart pound, and the blood rush to his privates. When she released him, she looked lovingly into his eyes, opened her mouth and…" _Naaaaaahhh_ …" She imitated Persephone’s plaintive bleating, as she broke into her customary grin, and backed away from him, her eyes beckoning him to follow.

"Ahhh…what do I have here?" Snape asked, joining the game immediately. "A pretty little goat in need of a goatherd?" He followed her as she backed away further, no longer bleating, but still smiling.

Welkin loved to be chased, and Snape loved it when he caught her, so it was a game they played quite often in different forms.

"Unfortunately, the goatherd is not on watch tonight, and there is a ravening wolf searching for prey. Poor little goat…about to be…" He lunged at her and caught her, pulling her towards himself. "About to be _devoured_ ," he announced, and buried his face against her throat, his lips sucking and nibbling at the soft flesh there.

"Oh, no," she sighed dramatically. "Oh, Mr. Wolf! Please! You’re not planning to… _eat me,_ are you?" She sounded more hopeful than fearful of what he might be planning to do to her.

"I most assuredly am. It is your own fault for looking so succulent this evening. Silly little goats such as yourself should learn to keep their tender flesh well hidden when there are wolves about. Have you not been warned about this?"

"I have, Sir Wolf. Repeatedly. But I thought I’d be safe here in Professor Snape’s bedchamber. I hear he's very fond of goats."

"That conclusion of yours concerning your safety was woefully incorrect. You are in most imminent peril of being pleasured to death," Snape informed her, as he began to undress her.

"Thank God for me jumping to such a wrong conclusion, this time, then. I've always hoped to be devoured by such a _handsome_ Wolf!" Welkin giggled, and surrendered herself to Snape's eager caresses.

* * *

"It was outrageous to pay that much for one dress," Welkin told him again, as they left _Her Majesty's Theatre_ to return to _The Leaky Cauldron_. "I didn’t need a dress this expensive, Severus. I like looking at designer gowns at _Harrod’s,_ but I would never have paid this much for anything to wear before we got married, even if it _was_ on sale. It was still too high."

"It suits you. You look quite stunning in it, and I am pleased that I could purchase it for you," Snape insisted. "You will always have the best that I am able to provide for you, as will Sullivan." He liked pampering Welkin with nice things, when she allowed him to.

Welkin suspected Severus was thinking of his own childhood, like hers, spent in a household with no luxuries, even the small luxury of the books he had longed for, until he was old enough to attend Hogwarts, and had access to them in the libraries there. It was something else that they had in common. They both understood what it was like to be really poor.

Welkin knew that Severus’s youth had also included forms of neglect that hers had not. She was determined to make that up to him in every way that she could. She would give him all the love and attention that she knew he had so longed for all his life, but never seemed to get. 

Welkin wondered at the vagaries of life. What made some people’s lives seem to be filled with nothing but good things, while others had to grasp and clutch at whatever slender straws of happiness they could find?

Welkin stroked the beautiful sea-green chiffon fabric of the gown she was wearing, and gave Snape’s hand a little squeeze. "Thank you, darling," she said, kissing him tenderly, not caring if her sparingly applied makeup smudged. Severus didn’t like her too made-up, and neither did she.

Snape smiled, and seemed to stand a little taller and prouder, with Welkin on his arm. Familiar with this form of Muggle transportation, Snape raised a hand to hail a taxi.

When they arrived back at the inn, Snape and Welkin were escorted to their private parlour room, and they settled in for a late supper.

"What did you think about the play?" Welkin asked him after their food arrived, and the waiter poured the wine, leaving them to enjoy it, and each other.

"It was quite…dramatic," Snape critiqued. 

"Is that dramatic in a good way, or dramatic in an annoying way?" Welkin pressed.

"Both," Snape replied. "I found the heroine quite annoying. Her choices were puzzling."

"I would have chosen Erik," Welkin said. 

Snape chewed on a piece of his steak thoughtfully, and swallowed before replying. "I do not find that difficult to believe. In a way you did. You chose an unattractive man, despised by many, who nevertheless loves you, and wishes only for your love in return."

"I would like to refute some of that comparison," Welkin quickly countered. "I chose a _handsome_ man - my Dark Angel of Magic - who I will always love," she said firmly. "Did you at least enjoy the costumes and the singing?"

"I prefer your style of singing," Snape said, reaching over to pour more wine for her, still thinking of what she had just asserted about him. 

" _Why_ do you love me?" he asked suddenly.

Welkin put down her fork, and picked up her wine. She also considered him thoughtfully before she answered. 

"I could name over a list of things about you that I love. But I don’t think that would really explain it." She took a sip of wine. "I think I love you because I don’t have a choice. There’s something about you that just…compels me to." She cocked her head to one side and frowned. "Does that make any sense to you? I just feel like I was designed to love you."

"Destined?" Snape asked. 

"Designed…destined…It feels to me like there was just inevitability about it. I’ve always been interested in the concept of reincarnation. Maybe that would explain it. Maybe we’ve always been together. Imagine that - from the beginning of time - if we’ve been in an endless cycle of finding each other, time after time. It’s sort of comforting in a way, because if that’s true, then nothing really can ever truly separate us. We’ll always find each other again."

Welkin smiled a little shyly at him, and Snape suddenly pictured the young girl he had seen when he had been in her mind. 

"And I shall love you all the more, each time that we do find each other," he told her with great certainty.

* * *

Snape read the note he’d been handed by their waiter, and frowned. 

"What is it, Severus?" Welkin asked. They were preparing to retire to their room for the evening when the note had arrived.

"Apparently, the bag you misplaced has been located." 

"I didn’t misplace it," Welkin protested. "It just disappeared when we were checking in. I think somebody took it!"

"Regardless of how it vanished, it has been found." 

Snape handed her the bottle of wine he had ordered to take with them to their room, and their room key. "You may take this to our room, and I will go to housekeeping and retrieve your bag, and join you soon, my love."

"Make it quick. I have big plans for you tonight," Welkin told him. She winked at him and waltzed away, ascending the stairs on her way to their room.

Snape headed downstairs, where the note instructed that the housekeeping office was located.

* * *

Welkin finished brushing her hair at the vanity in their room at _The Leaky Cauldron,_ and surveyed herself in the mirror. What in the world could be keeping Severus? It had been nearly an hour since he went to retrieve her purse.

There was a knock on the door. "Welkin, let me in please. It’s Severus." She heard the familiar voice, and bounded to the door happily, flinging it open with a broad smile.

"Where have you been? I’m so horny I was about ready to start without you!" she chided him playfully.

"No need for that," he told her smoothly. "I’m here now, and I’ll be more than happy to take care of your needs, and mine as well." 

His dark eyes moved over her body hungrily. He looked as if he were taking inventory. He stared at her rounded breasts, nearly spilling from the lacey cups of her black negligee, and the rest of her charms, which were not quite concealed by the sheer fabric that extended to the floor from the bodice in graceful drapery.

"Let’s have some champagne, shall we?" Snape suggested, as he displayed the bottle which he was carrying.

"But we already have a bottle of wine. Why did you get champagne?" Welkin asked, looking puzzled.

"I got champagne because I…know how much you _like_ champagne. I decided you’d probably rather have it than the wine," he explained.

"Whatever," Welkin said a little skeptically. She decided to drop it. It wasn’t worth arguing over. "I don’t care what we drink. Just open the bottle."

Snape quickly obliged. Pouring a glass, he handed it to her. She moved to the bed and sat on the edge. Snape followed her and sat next to her, watching her intently. Starting to raise her glass to her lips, she suddenly noticed that he hadn’t poured himself a drink.

"Where’s your glass?" she asked. 

"I dropped my glass and broke it in the hallway. I’ll share yours when you’re finished," he told her.

"What’s wrong with you?" Welkin frowned. "You’re acting awfully funny. You’re so jumpy, and you keep staring at me. Where’s my purse by the way?"

"Your purse?" 

" _Yeeees_ ," she said, sounding annoyed. "My purse…the thing you went downstairs to get - remember? There wasn't anything important in it, but I'd like to have it back."

"Oh, that. There was no one in the office when I got there. They must have stepped out. I’ll go back in the morning. Drink your champagne, Welkin," he urged.

Welkin frowned at him again, but this time turned up the glass and took a drink. "Mmmmm…this is really _good._ " She smiled with pleasure at the subtle, aromatic, Extra Brut taste. "Can we get some of this to take home with us?" She took another drink as Severus eased his arm around her, and placed one hand against the side of her breast.

* * *

Snape woke up in the small, dark, enclosed space of one of the downstairs storage closets. His arms and legs were bound, and the last thing that he remembered was a cloaked and hooded figure stepping out of the shadows in the hallway where he was looking for the housekeeping office, pointing a wand at him, and shouting 'Stupefy'. No, that wasn’t quite the last thing that he remembered. As he had crumpled to the floor, he recalled a face bending over him. With a start, right before he lost consciousness, he had recognized…himself!

The memory had no sooner reasserted itself in his mind, before he suddenly knew what it meant. Lucius Malfoy had done this. It had to be. Who else would want to masquerade as him? Who else was so obsessed with Welkin that he would illegally use Polyjuice Potion on himself to accomplish his despicable plan to possess her?

Snape groaned at the thought that Lucius might be with her even now, and began to struggle against his bonds, which had stubbornly refused to yield to him by use of spoken spells. If he could just loosen them enough to reach his wand, he could get free. How long had he been out, and what had happened to Welkin during that time? He had to get free quickly, and go to her! If Malfoy had forced himself on her, or harmed her in any other way, he would pay with his life, Snape swore to himself.

* * *

"I feel…a little…woozy," Welkin said, her eyelids blinking rapidly as she made the effort to clear her head. She’d only had two glasses of champagne, but her head felt as if she’d drunk the whole bottle. The room was starting to spin.

Lucius chuckled. "Now, Welkin - I thought you could hold your drink better than that," he said in Snape’s deep voice. "Let me help you lie down." 

He took the empty glass from her hand, and set it aside with the rest of the bottle of drugged champagne. He pressed her down on the bed, and stood to rearrange her in the proper position, her head against the fluffy pillows, her legs slightly apart. He stroked one of her thighs through her gown intimately as he smiled down at her.

"I think what you need to make you feel better is the comfort of your husband, Welkin," he told her, as he rubbed himself through his trousers. His prick, or rather, Severus's borrowed prick, was straining for release, and he licked his lips in anticipation of finally sheathing himself inside Welkin's moist and forbidden quim. 

The very _deep_ comfort of your husband, judging by how well-endowed he is, Lucius thought. That had been his biggest surprise when the Polyjuice Potion had taken effect and transformed him. Severus Snape was hung like a hippogriff. No wonder Welkin was so devoted to him.

He was very much going to enjoy this. Maybe she would too, and they could continue this on a more mutually cooperative level in the future. But if she didn’t enjoy it, it didn’t matter, because he was finally going to get a taste of that delicious little quim of hers, and that’s all he really cared about in the short term. As it was, their first encounter would, unfortunately, have to be with Welkin in a semi-drugged state, and under the mistaken notion that she was with her husband. He would have preferred a little resistance. It always made it so much better for him when they resisted. He would take some sort of souvenir of their encounter perhaps, to convince her later that it had really been him, and not Severus.

But he digressed and wasted precious time with these reveries. His throbbing cock reminded him that it was past time to get down to the business at hand. Knowing Severus, he wouldn’t stay bound for long, once he regained consciousness. Time was fleeting, and after all the trouble he had gone through to execute this plan, Lucius was not about to lose this opportunity due to Snape’s interference. 

"Severus," Welkin said, sounding confused. "Why can’t I move? I didn’t have that much to drink." Her efforts to control her limbs, and to sit back up, were futile, and she was finding it hard to concentrate.

"Perhaps you should have eaten more," he told her. 

His smile looked odd to her, and there was something quite wrong about the way that he spoke. 

"Don’t you worry about that, my dear. I’m going to take good care of you," he said, as he crawled on top of her. "Just relax, and you’ll enjoy this much more," he promised, and captured her slack mouth in a kiss.

* * *


	39. Lucius and the Pendragon Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus finally frees himself and goes to Welkin's rescue.

* * *

It was the kiss that did it. Welkin knew instantly that this was not her Severus, and the knowledge that the man was an imposter, and that her body had been rendered virtually helpless by him, alarmed her. What alarmed her more was wondering what had happened to Severus at his hands.

Welkin cringed inwardly as the imposter’s lips left hers, and began a leisurely descent down her throat. Stay calm - think - she told herself. Whatever you do, don’t panic. She needed information, first and foremost. Her body was hindered, and her mind was a little foggy, but still relatively alert. She focused, and cast her mind into the thoughts of the man on top of her.

There was the expected lust, which left him too preoccupied to notice her light probing. She pushed past that, and found the sequence of images she was looking for - Severus stunned, bound, and thrust into the downstairs closet. He was still alive. Thank God for that.

Welkin pushed further, and the next image swirled and coalesced into the visage of the man she had already suspected - Lucius Malfoy. She saw Lucius trailing them from the theatre - giving the waiter the note that Severus had received to send him downstairs - and finally, Lucius drinking liquid from a small bottle to effect his transformation into the man who he would never be.

Welkin felt her anger rising. Malfoy had lain in wait for Severus and stunned him without warning, like the skulking coward that he was. Any gratitude she might have once felt for his part in preventing Huldra from stabbing her fled from her with this new rush of anger, which was rapidly building to rage, as he continued his disgusting slobbering over her helpless body. If her arms and hands were still functional she would have raised them to his throat to strangle him.

* * *

Free at last, Snape blasted open the closet door with his wand and ran for the stairs, bounding up them with fear for Welkin’s welfare in his heart, and murderous rage against Lucius Malfoy uppermost in his mind.

When he reached their room, and found the door locked, he didn’t bother with unlocking charms, but blasted that door open as well.

Snape’s imposter was lying on the floor by the bed, writhing in pain, his hands clutching at his throat, desperately gasping for air. Welkin lay on the bed, the top of her nightgown pulled down, and her breasts exposed. Her head was turned to the side, a malevolent gaze fixed on the transformed Lucius, her lips repeating the dark chant Snape had taught her, as she used her mind to gradually tighten her invisible grasp on his throat and strangle him. As Snape watched, Lucius arched his torso off the floor, and gave a final rattling gasp before slumping back to the floor, senseless, but still alive.

Snape slowly raised his wand, and pointed it at Lucius, prepared to speak the forbidden words, and finish the job that Welkin had begun.

"Severus, no!" Welkin managed to shout at him, knowing what was in his mind to do to Lucius. "They’ll put you in Azkaban for it! Please! Don’t kill him! I’m alright! He didn’t hurt me!"

Snape hesitated, but did not lower his wand. 

"He’s not worth it, Severus! Please, just come help me! I can’t move!" Welkin pleaded with him.

Snape at last lowered his wand, and put it away, swiftly moving to Welkin’s side. He placed a hand on her forehead, and used an Enervating Spell to dispel the effects of whatever potion that Malfoy had given her. As she slowly began to regain control of her body, Severus discreetly pulled the top of her nightgown back up to cover her nakedness.

"Did he…force himself on you?" Snape asked her, his voice thick with emotion. 

"No. It didn’t get that far," Welkin assured him. "I used the magic you taught me to stop him." She snuggled herself against him, seeking the comfort of his arms.

"Yes. I saw that you did," Severus told her a bit more calmly. 

Snape had been reluctant at first, to begin tutoring Welkin in the dark forms of magic that he knew. He had not wanted to sully her innocence with it, nor allow it to place a stain on her soul, as it had on his. But now he saw that she had spoken the truth when she convinced him. She had successfully argued her case by telling him that it was necessary for them to use it, to protect their family against those who would try to harm them, and tear them asunder.

Welkin had used what she had learned well, but only defensively, and she had not killed with it. Just as importantly, she had stopped _him_ from killing.

Dark Magic did not have to be corrupting if used for the right purpose. He saw that now. He would no longer fear that studying the Dark Arts would result in him slipping back into the ways of thinking that had darkened his soul when he was younger. He would never again be that misguided man. Their love would protect them from that, Welkin had argued to him when he had initially made his protests to her. He saw now that it was also true, just as she had said. Their love would always be the shield against the darkness, and their souls would remain intact.

"What should we do with him?" Welkin asked. 

"Wait for the effects of the Polyjuice Potion to wear off, and then we’ll decide," Snape said. "While we’re waiting, let’s see what other tricks he has up _my_ sleeves, shall we?"

* * *

Severus’s search of his pockets revealed that Lucius had used only half of the potion he had at his disposal. A short trip to Hogsmeade and back by Apparition, and Snape was prepared when Lucius changed back to himself, and then groggily got to his feet. Malfoy gave a start when he saw Snape with his wand pointed directly at his head.

"How about another little drink, Lucius?" Snape offered, as Welkin added the hair he had retrieved in Hogsmeade to the remaining potion. Welkin sashayed over with a smirk, and handed Lucius the bottle.

"That was _not_ an optional offer," Snape growled, moving the wand closer to Lucius's nose. "Drink it now, or I just might be tempted to rearrange these handsome features of yours that you’re so proud of into a less pleasing pattern with my wand."

* * *

"Persephone, who tied you up out here?" Aberforth Dumbledore fussed as he untied the rope that tethered the goat outside the _Hog’s Head Inn_.

"Follow one of the customers outside again, did you? That’s a very naughty girl. You're lucky they brought you back."

Aberforth’s gruff voice took on a more patient, loving tone when he was addressing his beloved goats. Persephone was his favorite, and he was particularly solicitous of her comfort. "Come back inside, then. It’s much too cold out here for you, little lovely."

He led her back inside, and slipped the looped rope off her neck to release her. She gave a frightened bleat, and quickly retreated into a corner, eyeing him warily.

"Well, what’s the matter with…" Aberforth started to ask when the bleat of a goat behind him stopped him. He turned and looked down into the soft brown eyes of another Persephone, identical to the one he had just led inside. "What the bloody hell?"

Aberforth let his baleful gaze travel around the room, eyeing each of his regular customers in turn. "Who’s the bleedin’ comedian who thinks this is bloody funny?" he demanded.

* * *

"So, Narcissa had to come down there to pick him up?" Welkin was grinning from ear to ear as Severus related the new gossip that was making the rounds in Hogsmeade.

" _Yeeeees_ ," Snape drawled. "Aberforth apparently Owled her to, threatening to turn Lucius over to the authorities for questioning, and possible charges of cross-species ‘fraternization’ while under the influence of Polyjuice Potion," Snape added with a smirk of his own.

"Lucius is pretty lucky that you didn’t put him in with the rest of Aberforth’s goats, like you originally intended to," Welkin said. "He’s such a pretty thing. One of the other billy goats might have _fraternized_ him plenty!" Welkin laughed raucously at the image that conjured up.

"As it was, it apparently took three of Dumbledore’s customers to pull him off of Lucius, after he transformed back to himself," Snape reported. "He gave him quite the pounding, I am told."

"Good! The motherfuckin' rapist asshole! He deserved worse! I wish he’d given him a pounding _before_ he changed back - if you know what I mean," Welkin said.

"Those are only rumours about Aberforth Dumbledore’s proclivities in that area, Welkin," Snape reminded her. "I doubt that they are true."

"But they might be true. There’s all kinds of strange love in this world, Severus," Welkin noted. "Who are we to judge that what happens privately between a man and his goat isn’t a beautiful thing?"

"Do you have _anything_ sexual that you object to, my pet?" Snape asked her. "I am curious, as I myself have yet to find it."

"Well, you know I don’t approve of anything sexual being directed at children," she said. "That’s the worst thing in the world, as far as I’m concerned. You can’t get any lower than that. There are a few others, but not really very many. 'Live and let fuck' is my attitude. Life is too short to go around policing other people’s bedroom habits."

Welkin poked a finger at his thin chest. "What about you, with that great big frisky cock of yours? You’re not exactly a shrinking violet when it comes to sex either. I can hardly keep up with you sometimes. Is there anything you don’t cotton to?"

Snape considered her question, pursing his mouth a bit, and frowning. "I did not like the strap-on suggestion that you made," he finally admitted.

Welkin laughed. " _I’ll_ say you didn’t! I thought you were going to hide under the bed when I said that! I don’t see what the big deal is. I gave _you_ a little backdoor action. Turnabout is fair play, as you always say. I would have been very gentle with you. At least…in the beginning. Once I got started, I would have ridden you like a jockey coming down homestretch at the Kentucky Derby!"

Snape looked puzzled. "What is the Kentucky Derby?" he asked. 

Welkin laughed at him again. "You’re such an innocent about the Muggle world sometimes. Come here _Seabiscuit,_ and I’ll explain it to you." She opened her arms invitingly, and he rolled into them, yawning up at her as she stroked his hair, and began his bedtime story.

"Once upon a time, far, far away in a magical land called Ken-tuck-ee, there was a _greeeeaaat_ big ole horse farm near the hamlet of Lexington…"

* * *


	40. The Life Giver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus makes an unexpected announcement. A crisis reveals Welkin's greatest magical gift.

* * *

"Has somebody been sneaking into your private potions storehouse again? You look upset," Welkin observed, as Snape seated himself with her in the Slytherin common room. His arrival interrupted her busy scribbling in one of her journals.

"Nothing that serious. Just the abrupt end of Mr. Potter’s sessions in Occlumency. In a way, it is a great relief," Snape told her. "Where is Sullivan?" It was Saturday, and Welkin generally preferred to keep the child with them on the weekend, instead of employing the nanny.

"Luna has him. She volunteered to keep him for an hour or so, so that I could write in my journal."

"Why are you doing that here?" he asked, leaning closer in an attempt to see what she was writing.

"Because when I try to do it in our chambers, you always want to know what I’m writing," she told him, closing the journal so that he couldn’t see. "And then, when I won’t tell you, you decide you want to have sex, and I end up putting it away. At least here, I know that I won’t be distracted."

"Are you writing about me in that book?" Snape prodded. 

"Partly." 

"Then, I should most certainly be allowed to read it." He frowned at her. 

"You’re in my mind constantly, both literally and figuratively. If you don’t know what I think about you by now, you never will. There’s no need for you to read it." Welkin put the journal away in her bag as his eyes followed her movements suspiciously.

"Do you write about other people as well?" 

"Yes, of course." 

"Other men you have known?" he asked. 

"Oh no, not _former_ lovers - just my eight or ten other _current_ lovers. What a bother. There are so many of them that I lost count. I think it’s only eight to date," Welkin replied flippantly, sounding annoyed.

"If you are…" Snape began. 

"Sully was very disappointed that you weren’t there when he woke up this morning." Welkin interrupted to change the subject before things got out of hand, which they often did with Severus when they were talking about her past love life.

"He kept looking around and calling for ‘Da’. He’s really getting to be quite the 'Daddy’s Boy'. I don’t think he misses me at all, now that he’s on the bottle and solid food. I’m just not important to him anymore."

"Of course you are important to the child. You are his mother," Snape reassured her.

"Then why hasn’t he said Mama yet? All he ever says is ‘Da’ and snake," Welkin said. "Or ‘nake’ as he calls it," she corrected herself. "You’d think he’d at least give me credit for the massive inconvenience of carrying him in my womb for nine months, not to mention the excruciating pain of giving birth to him."

Snape regarded her thoughtfully, his steady gaze finally beginning to unnerve her a little.

"What is it now?" she sighed. 

"I think that I should like to have another child," Snape announced. 

Welkin eyed him with brows knit. "Well, good luck with that, Severus. But thanks for warning me this time. I’ll make sure I’m well stocked up on contraceptives," Welkin informed him.

Snape quirked a smile at her. "A witch this time, I think, with her mother’s eyes and smile."

"I’ll take that as a compliment so, thank you, I guess," she responded hesitantly. "But I think you’ve been talking to Arthur Weasley too much again," Welkin added, referring to his intimate little tete-a-tetes with Arthur following Order of the Phoenix meetings.

"Do I look like a Weasley to you? I’m not about to be popping out babies every year to cater to your overly romanticized visions of fatherhood," Welkin said. "So just get it out of that brilliant, but slightly devious mind of yours," she added emphatically. "Besides, you don’t even like children. The one we do have is going to be driving you crazy in another year."

"I will not press the idea for now. We can discuss it during the summer when we are at Spinner’s End," he said evenly, looking as if he already had his mind set. Welkin made herself a mental note to secure her contraceptives against possible tampering in the future, with the strongest spell that she could manage.

"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!" A third year Slytherin student who Welkin did not know came running into the Common room frantically shouting. When he spotted Snape at their table, he rushed over.

"Are you trying for another detention, Mr. Daltry? Two in one month would be most inadvisable," Snape warned the gangly boy with white-blond hair.

"No Sir, Professor Snape. You’ve got to come to the Infirmary, Sir! It’s your son. He was hurt. It wasn’t anybody’s fault! Honest it wasn’t, Sir! He was just there when… Professor Dumbledore says to please come quick, Sir!"

Welkin was already on her feet and out the door, with Snape close behind her.

* * *

"He’s barely breathing, Severus!" Welkin said tearfully. "What are we going to do?"

Albus Dumbledore had related the story of what had happened, after sending the Hogwarts students who had been involved out of the room.

Luna Lovegood was on her way to the door of the Slytherin common room with Sully, intending to turn him back over to Professor Snape and Welkin, when someone she knew beckoned to her from the Potions Lab, and she had stopped in to talk to them. Two other groups of students had been in the lab practicing their brewing techniques. Sully had suddenly leaned over and grasped one of the ingredients from the table, then thrust it into his mouth and swallowed it before anyone could stop him.

"I’m afraid this is more than serious, my dear," Albus told Welkin, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. "I have consulted with Professor Sprout, and unfortunately, there is no antidote for what Sullivan has ingested." He looked at Snape and Welkin with sadness and sympathy. "You must prepare yourself to relinquish him. It may only be a matter of minutes, I’m afraid."

"No! That’s not true!" Welkin slapped his hand off her shoulder. "You’re a liar! Sully’s not going to die!"

"Welkin, please," Snape said gently, pulling her against himself, as he always did when she was distressed, in an effort to calm her.

"It’s not true! It’s not true! He’s a liar! Sully’s going to be okay. Tell me you’ll make him okay, Severus. You have something you can give him. I know you do. You always have something...from your storeroom. You _have_ something!"

When Severus didn’t answer her, she looked up into his eyes for his reassurance. The tears she saw forming there made her teeter over the abyss of despair. If Severus couldn’t save Sully, with all of his great skill as a Potions Master, then who could?

"God help me…God help me…" she chanted, looking at Sully’s tiny face. His breathing was very shallow, and his skin was turning blue, his tiny life force slowly ebbing away.

"Oh, God help me…please God…" 

The chant was a habit she had acquired in times of deep need. Welkin was not a great believer in religion in the traditional sense, as her mother had presented it to her, but she did believe in a divine creative force that poured out love and blessings to anyone who asked for them, and sought them with pure intentions. _To each shall be given in the measure as is required._ She had asked for help before, and it was given. It would be given now. She had to believe that.

As she asked, help _was_ given - though not in a way she might have expected. No potion or elixir magically appeared. But a clear and distinct series of long forgotten images flashed through her mind as she stared at Sully, begging the divine Giver of Life to spare him.

_:Look, Mama! I prayed him alive! I made a miracle, Mama!:_

"A _miracle_ …" Welkin muttered. "Just like the songbird…It worked then…maybe…" 

She stared at Sully. "I just have to put my hands on him," she said with great certainty.

Her voice was calm now, instead of frantic, and projected strength and determination. It was as if she had flipped a switch, and summoned the other Welkin she had always carried with her on her crazy, careening path though life - the one whose footsteps were steadier - the one who could not be broken or turned aside from achieving her objective.

She drew away from Severus’s tight embrace, and started towards the bed where Sully lay dying. 

Albus nearly stopped her, but Snape waved him away, remembering the images he had seen when he was joined with Welkin’s mind. Please, let it be a true memory, he thought. His son had done nothing to deserve this. He should not suffer and lose his life for the transgressions of his father.

Welkin sat on the edge of the bed, and gathered Sully’s nearly lifeless body into her arms, holding him against her heart. She placed her hands against his back and closed her eyes, focusing all of her energies, love, and need. Welkin felt her hands and the top of her head begin to grow warm, as if they were burning from within, the heat radiating outward. She gathered the heat, and forced it all down - down to the palms of her hands and her fingertips - down into Sully. She found the tiny spark of life that remained in his body, and entwined with that thinly stretched silver filament to strengthen and anchor it to herself like a lifeline.

"Remarkable," Albus breathed, as he watched Welkin’s hands begin to emit a subtle golden glow that deepened to a flame-like reddish orange hue. Her own breaths were now deeper and a little labored, almost as they had been when she was giving birth to the baby. Slowly, the flame changed again to a phosphorescent green, as she burned away the damage that had been done to him, and drew Sully back to the living.

Sully twitched against her. No longer appearing lifeless, he squirmed against his mother as she drew him back from death’s cold embrace. Drawing a sudden deep breath, he set up a frightened but lusty squall, as Welkin slumped a little over him, and felt the intense heat begin to fade from her hands.

"Incredible, my boy," Albus said to Snape. "Welkin has the rarest healing talent of all, like her ancestress before her. She is _Datrix Vitae_ \- a Life Giver."

When Welkin raised her head, with the beautiful sound of Sully’s caterwauling ringing in her ears, she saw Severus gazing at her with a look of great love, tinged with awe.

* * *


	41. Welkin's Study Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madam Pince views Welkin and Severus as potential troublemakers in her domain. Severus creates a library fantasy for Welkin.

* * *

"Oh no, you won’t," Welkin told Snape. "It wasn’t Luna’s fault what happened to Sully, and I’ll not let you blame her for it, and try to get her expelled from Hogwarts. That girl _loves_ Sully, and she feels terrible enough as it is. She was crying all last night about it, and she was so incredibly relieved when I told her this morning that he was okay."

Welkin gave Snape a look that said there would be no further discussion on the matter of expulsion for Luna Lovegood.

"As you wish," Snape said brusquely. "But I think she was, at the very least, not properly observant of Sullivan’s welfare, and I will not allow her to undertake supervision of him again. She has shown herself to be completely incapable of such an important task."

He gave Welkin the same stubborn look that she had just given him. 

"She’s too traumatized by all this to babysit for us now anyway, so I guess I can agree to that," Welkin said.

"You are being very sensible," Snape told her. 

"For once?" she asked wryly, speaking the words she suspected he had wanted to add to that statement.

Madam Pince came gliding soundlessly past their table in the library, and gave them a look that instantly silenced them both.

Welkin flipped through the pages of her book idly as Snape resumed reading, carefully and precisely jotting down the occasional note.

"Severus," Welkin whispered when Pince was gone. He looked up. "Why didn’t you make love to me last night? Are you angry with me? Do you blame me for Sully’s accident too, because he wasn’t with me?"

"No, of course not, Welkin. You are the one who saved him. I simply thought that you needed your rest last night. You had been through quite an ordeal, both emotionally and physically."

"Me needing my rest has never stopped you before," Welkin grumbled. "I think you’ve been acting funny ever since I did what I did. It’s almost like you’re afraid to touch me. No, that’s not it. Not _afraid_ , more like too _reverential_ to touch me. Or maybe…oh, I don’t know _what_ I mean! I just know that I want you to cut it out! I’m still the same woman I’ve always been. Just because Albus says I’m a _Life Giver,_ that doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly so special that you can’t make love to me. Frankly, if it comes down to a choice, I’d rather be fucked than worshipped," Welkin said bluntly.

"I will admit to feeling a certain sense of awe concerning the power you exhibited yesterday. It did make me hesitate to give free rein to my desire for you last night. Were we in our chambers now, I would remedy my shirking of my husbandly attentions to you, and I will certainly do so to my utmost this evening," Snape reassured her.

The look he gave her made Welkin suddenly feel weak, but in a pleasant, tingly sort of a way. If she were standing, instead of sitting, she was certain that her knees would buckle instantly, and she would tumble to the floor and lie there, shamelessly begging Severus to take her, right here in the middle of the library.

"I’m going to hold you to that promise," she told him, her voice sounding even more husky than normal.

The ever-vigilant Madam Pince walked by their table again, and gave them _‘the look’_ as she passed.

"What’s her fucking problem with us anyway?" Welkin asked when she was out of earshot again. "We’re not being _that_ loud. I ought to get on top of the table and start howling. That would _really_ give her something to frown about."

"I know of a more private location upstairs, where she does not patrol as often. We could move our _‘study date’_ , as you like to call it, up there," Snape suggested.

"Well, let’s go then, please. She’s making me crazy watching us like a vulture waiting for the last rites to be read over our carcasses. It’s worse than trying to keep Albus from spying on us."

They picked up their books, and Welkin followed Snape on a circuitous route past the large tables, up the stairs and to the opposite end of the stacks where Welkin had made her unfortunate discovery of Severus with Hermione. He led her to the end of one of the aisles, formed by two bookshelves that were about six feet shorter in length than the others. The arrangement left more floor space between them and the outside wall of windows, and positioned in that space was an alcove with a small table with two chairs arranged on a low platform.

"This is cozy," Welkin commented as they took their seats. "How did you know this was here? Do you sit up here often?"

Snape pointed a boney finger at the side of the table nearest the wall, where some initials were burned into the wood. "S.S.H.B.P." Welkin read. "Severus Snape? What’s the rest? Oh, wait! I get it! Severus Snape, Half-Blood Prince!"

"Very good," he congratulated her. "I used to study at this table. It was a good place to get away from certain people. They never bothered me here. Possibly because they rarely cared to open a book, much less spend time in the library," Snape said condescendingly.

Welkin knew he was talking about James Potter and his posse of friends who called themselves the Marauders during the days that Severus had attended Hogwarts as a student. Even after all these years, it was obvious how much their favored sport of humiliating and tormenting him on a regular basis had affected him.

"Well, never mind those adolescent idiots. This can be _our_ regular study table now," Welkin said, smiling at him. Unlike the Marauders, she would only torment him in good ways - ones that he would like.

* * *

They had been silently reading together for nearly forty-five minutes, and Welkin had not been aware of the words on the pages of the book that she had open for at least the last fifteen of those minutes. Neither had she been able to advance even one page further, as she kept reading and re-reading the same passages without the ability to concentrate on them.

It had always been one of Welkin’s more unique fetishes that the closeness of a man she found attractive, and the sound of him turning the pages of a book as he read, was intensely arousing to her. Since Severus was arousing enough to her without a book in his hands, he was virtually irresistible to her now, as he flipped each page in his book with a brisk efficiency that made the parchment paper crackle crisply.

Welkin surreptitiously glanced up to watch his hands as his fingers stroked the pages, and she fantasized how good it would feel to have Severus stroking those strong, sure hands over her body, like he did over the pages of his book.

She sighed loudly, but he seemed to pay no notice. She slipped off her shoe, and stretched her foot out under the table to rub her toes against his ankle, but he only jerked his foot back out of range, and continued his note taking without looking up. I guess he’d really rather read, Welkin thought dejectedly. She must have been mistaken about his reason for suggesting coming upstairs to a more private location. What a shame. The Hogwarts library was on the list of places where they hadn’t done it yet, as well as being one of her favorite fantasy locations.

She closed her own book, and got up from the table, wandering down the aisle to read some of the book titles. Maybe she could find something to take her mind off of doing the nasty with Severus. Not likely, but it was worth a try.

Welkin finally selected a red leather-bound volume and was looking at pictures of flying horses and unicorns when she was suddenly thrust forward against the bookshelves by another body behind her, and her book was extricated from her hands.

"Are you aware that books such as these are forbidden to first year students at Hogwarts, Miss Cooper?" Snape asked in a deceptively silky tone. He pressed his body against hers firmly as Welkin grinned to herself, and then quickly fell into her role.

"But that’s just a book about magical beasts, Professor Snape. Flying horses, hippogriffs, unicorns, and such. Surely those aren’t forbidden, are they?"

"Magical beasts? Do you take me for a fool, Miss Cooper?" 

Snape turned her to face him, and stepped back a little, but remained intimately close to her. He waved his hand over the book he now held, opened it again, and showed it to her. "What magical beast is this?" he queried her.

Welkin looked down at the picture he indicated. There on the page, instead of a lovely unicorn with an innocent young maiden stretching forth her hand to touch it, was a moving picture of herself naked, on her hands and knees, with Severus behind her equally naked, about to impale her with his own magical horn.

"Well, Miss Cooper. I’m waiting for an answer," Snape told her crisply. "Look at it, and tell me what beast you see."

The animated Snape was now giving her animated self’s quim quite a workout, his cock plunging energetically into her as she grimaced and shrieked silently.

"That’s not a beast, Professor. That’s two people having sex, Sir." 

"Which two people?" he insisted. 

"You and me, Professor; but I swear that’s not what I was looking at a minute ago," she told him.

"Of course not," Snape intoned, his derision clearly communicated by the tone in his deep voice. "Because if it were, that would mean that instead of studying the lessons you’ve been assigned, that you have been whiling away your time up here using magic to satisfy your puerile imaginings of what it would be like to be ravished by your Professor, wouldn’t it, Miss Cooper?"

"I suppose so, Professor," she said. "But I really wasn’t doing that. You changed that book yourself. I saw you do it."

"Silence! I did no such thing," he told her. "You are an impudent little liar." 

He grasped her chin, and tilted her face up so that her eyes met his. "Such an innocent face - and such a dirty little mind," he smirked at her. "What a shame it would be to waste such inventiveness by simply assigning you detention. Where would be the lesson in that? I think I might be able to come up with something much more fitting. What do you think, Miss Cooper? Shouldn’t your punishment match the offense?"

"But, I’ve _never_ thought of you that way. I haven’t done anything to be punished for, Professor," Welkin insisted again.

"Then you will not mind unbuttoning your blouse," he told her. "If your nipples are not erect, then I might believe your story, and perhaps someone else - not myself of course - has perpetrated this spell in an effort to defame your innocence."

"Well…if I must, I will, just to prove that I’m telling the truth to you, Professor," Welkin said, and hesitantly unbuttoned her blouse.

Snape pulled the garment open, and then slid it down her arms and let it fall to the floor.

"This is not exactly a virginal undergarment, Miss Cooper," Snape observed to her, indicating her red satin demi-cup bra. "Your innocence is in great doubt at the moment," he told her. "Is this wanton display of your attributes an attempt to incite my passions?"

He slid the straps off her arms, unhooked the back and let it fall to the floor with her blouse, then used both hands to palm and squeeze her breasts quite aggressively. If her nipples weren’t fully erect before, they certainly were now - erect and tingling.

"That’s not fair, Professor! You’re making me erect by doing that. That doesn’t prove anything."

"Perhaps you are right, Miss Cooper. I really do want to be fair about this. Lower your jean pants, and I shall inspect your knickers for any sign of your arousal. If you exhibit no undue wetness, you will be free to go. Does that not sound fair?"

"Well…I suppose," Welkin said somewhat begrudgingly. She unzipped her jeans, and pushed them down to her knees.

"You are very fond of red, aren’t you?" Snape said, noting that the knickers matched her bra. "Exhibiting Gryffindor sympathies, perhaps? That will certainly earn you no extra points from me, Miss Cooper."

Before she could answer, he placed his hand against her, and began to vigorously massage her pussy through her panties with his fingers, rubbing and pinching her until she started to squirm.

"My dear Miss Cooper…I am afraid that it is just as I had suspected. You are quite _exceedingly_ wet," he accused. "The evidence is overwhelmingly against your claims of innocence. You have been having very naughty thoughts about me, haven’t you? Admit it."

"No, I have not, Professor! Of course I’m wet, when you maul me like you just did. Who wouldn’t be?"

"There is no use in you continuing with your weak protests, Miss Cooper. You are obviously quite guilty. But because you have exhibited an admirable spirit of cooperation thus far in my investigation, I think that I am inclined to overlook your lies, and instead of a punishment, I shall reward you with a small taste of what you most desire."

"I guess I don’t have to ask what that would be," Welkin sighed, as he bent to slip off her shoes.

"You are correct, and the answer is quite obvious. I shall reward you with a proper fucking. Finish removing those jean pants, please. Unless you would rather be punished, that is," he smirked at her.

"This is blackmail," she grumbled, but shucked the rest of the way out of her jeans anyway. She took off her panties, and threw them on top of her jeans on the floor.

"I knew you were going to tell me to anyway," she shrugged, when he arched an eyebrow at her apparent eagerness.

"You are most cooperative indeed, Miss Cooper," Snape complimented her. "Blackmail is such a harsh word," he added, placing his hand under one of her knees, and lifting her leg up to swing her foot around and position it atop the second shelf from the bottom. "I prefer to call it an amicable exchange. We will each get something; your sexual curiosity concerning me will be satisfied, and I will get the pleasure of vigorously plumbing the depths of that juicy little snatch of yours."

His speech concluded, Snape unceremoniously unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock. Although he was already quite stiff, he gave it a few pumps with his hand as she watched.

It was then that they both heard footsteps. Snape put a finger to his lips to indicate to her to remain quiet, and quickly waved a hand to cast an Invisibility Spell over them both, just as Irma Pince walked into view at the end of the aisle. The librarian hesitated, and frowned a little, as if she sensed something. She gazed directly at them - and through them - before she finally shrugged, and continued on her rounds of the upstairs stacks. Snape gave it another minute, then waved his hand again, and removed the spell.

"Now, back to the matter at hand," Snape said. "Are you ready to find out what it is like to be fucked quite masterfully by your Potions Master, Miss Cooper?"

"Is there anything I can say to convince you not to?" 

"Nothing whatsoever." 

"Then do what you have to, but you’re fucking an innocent woman." Welkin spread her thighs wider, and braced herself against the bookshelf, preparing herself for what she knew from experience would be quite vigorous thrusting, just as he had promised her.

As she had anticipated, Snape began to thrust into her furiously, and Welkin had to clutch frantically at the bookshelf to keep from being dislodged onto the floor.

The bookshelf Welkin was perched on was rattling rhythmically now as he fucked her, and random volumes began dislodging themselves and falling to the floor.

"Aaahhh…ohmmmm…Professor Snape…you devil!" 

Welkin abandoned the shelf to wrap her legs around his waist, bringing her arms underneath his to grasp his shoulders with her hands, and cling to him tightly.

"Professor Snape…I’m so guilty…guilty… _guilty_ ," she confessed. "I’ve wanted you inside me like this for ages now. It feels so good the way you’re fucking me. Does my pussy feel good to you? Tell me how it feels, you sexy motherfucker."

"Soooo tight…soooo wet," Snape groaned as he furiously pumped himself into her. 

He grasped her by the buttocks, turned, and walked her back down the aisle to their table, depositing her on her back on the hard wooden surface, his cock still sheathed inside her all the while. He pulled her arms up over her head, and held them firmly against the table by the wrists, as he bent over her to kiss her, moving his cock inside her in tight circular churning motions that made her moan into his mouth.

Snape released her wrists, and his hands began to rove over her body, expertly touching and caressing every accessible inch of her as she wriggled and squirmed on the table with pleasure. Welkin buried her hands in his hair, and strained upwards to his mouth again, her lips bruising his, as hard and insistent as his cock had been when he was thrusting into her. She wrapped her body around his like a cocoon, and rolled with him until he was beneath her.

With a wave of her hands, the buttons were invisibly torn from his tunic, and it flew open. Adding a more personal touch, Welkin grasped his pristine white shirtfront in both hands, and ripped it open to the navel as well. She bent to encircle his nipple with her mouth, sucking and teasing it erect, and she felt his cock leap inside her as it reacted to this new level of arousal. Welkin let her tongue circle his other nipple and flick at it wetly. She raised herself and arched her back, one hand on his stomach; the other she stretched back and underneath, to rub his balls through his trousers.

Snape groaned deeply, savoring the feel of being inside her while her fingers expertly massaged him. "If you didn’t have these trousers on, I’d have my finger deep inside you, Severus, my love. Would you like that, my darling?" Welkin asked him, watching his face to see the effect her words had on him.

"I love everything that you do to me. Even more than you obviously love doing it," he growled.

"Yes, I love it. I love watching your face to see how it makes you feel. I love it when you can’t help crying out. I love the moment you can’t hold back any longer, and I feel you erupt inside me."

"More action, and less talk please," Snape groaned, although the talk, as well as her alternately gentle and then rough manipulation of his balls through his trousers were both quite stimulating to him.

Welkin grinned and began to move again, impaling herself on his dick as he reached up to squeeze and fondle her bare breasts.

"Time to come for me, Severus," she said. "Come for me before we’re discovered. Or do you want someone to see us - with me naked and riding your cock like your nasty little Muggle bitch? I think I hear someone coming," she told him as she increased her speed, and used her vaginal muscles to clinch him tighter. The pupils of his eyes dilated to the maximum before he squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced, on the verge of coming.

He grasped her hips and pulled her down on his cock forcefully, holding her in place as he erupted inside her. "Welkin!" he gasped, abandoning himself to the delicious agony of his prolonged orgasm.

Welkin did love seeing him lose control like this. It was as pleasurable to her in many ways as her own orgasms were. She wasn’t concerned about seeking her own release at the moment. There would be time enough for that tonight.

Severus opened his eyes and stared up at her as he regained his senses, the pounding of his heart slowly returning to a slower, more normal rhythm.

"It appears that the Potions Master, in this instance, has been mastered by the pupil, Miss Cooper," he told her.

"I prefer to call it _illuminated and informed_ by the student, my dear, darling Professor," Welkin smiled. "I would never want to completely master you. What would be the fun in that?"

Snape smiled back. "I’m afraid my buttons are in a shambles," he sighed. "They appear to have flown off in all directions."

"Nothing that a little Reparo Charm won’t fix," Welkin said. "This magic stuff is quite handy for such things, I’m told by a very wise and quite sexy wizard, who I just so happen to be very intimately acquainted with."

"Oh, really?" He arched an eyebrow at her. "Will you be seeing him later this evening, in an equally illuminating encounter?"

"I certainly hope so, Professor Snape. I most certainly do hope so," Welkin repeated, as she lowered her head to kiss him.

* * *


	42. Hermione Takes a Walk on the Wild Side - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin soothes Severus after Umbridge puts him on probation. Ginny invites Welkin on a girls' night outing to _The Three Broomsticks_ with Luna and Hermione.

* * *

"What do you mean, you’re on probation?" Welkin asked. "Can Umbridge do that?" 

She had just learned that Dolores Umbridge had put Severus on probation for not helping her in her machinations against the small contingent of Hogwarts students who had self-styled themselves as ‘Dumbledore’s Army’.

"She can, and she has," Snape said. "As well as helping to arrange to have Dumbledore removed as Headmaster."

"That self-important, twisted little munchkin! She’s a vindictive bitch! I can’t believe it. I don’t think that Albus had anything to do with Dumbledore’s Army. I suspect that he was just trying to protect Harry by taking the blame."

"No doubt," Snape said. "As do we all protect him - some of us without his knowledge - although I doubt that he would show proper appreciation for that fact were he to have knowledge of it. More than likely he would only take it as his due as the almighty Chosen One. He is very much his father’s son," he added with contempt.

He crossed to his desk and sat down. 

"Dumbledore’s Army was Potter’s asinine idea, I am sure - as if an unseasoned group of mere children have any chance of standing against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters," he scoffed. "He is as arrogant as his father ever was."

"You have to give him and the rest of them credit for wanting to do something to oppose Voldemort," Welkin said. "That’s very brave of them."

"I do not have to give Potter credit for _anything_ ," Snape snapped angrily. "I merely have to risk my life - and now possibly yours, and Sullivan’s - to try to protect the egotistical little shit from the Dark Lord."

Welkin leaned across the front of the desk on her elbows, her chin propped up by her hands, and gave him a sympathetic look to soften her words.

"I’m very appreciative of that, Severus, but I don’t think that Harry’s an egotistical little shit, and I’m sure the group wasn’t all his idea. Hermione and Ron had a hand in it as well, I suspect. Those three are inseparable."

"Yes, inseparable…like the ingredients of a particularly noxious potion," Snape agreed.

"Or the _Three Stooges_ ," Welkin grinned, knowing Severus would like that comparison. To her surprise, he had seemed rather amused by the Muggle classic slapstick comedic episodes involving the characters, when she had shown some of them to him last fall.

Snape stopped frowning darkly, and actually quirked a smile. 

"Harry is Moe, Hermione, with all that wild hair, is Larry, and Ron, the one you call the dense one, is Curly," Welkin said.

"You are attempting to tease me, and lighten my mood," Snape told her, reading her intentions well.

"Always…and forever," Welkin said, still smiling back at him indulgently. 

"But if Albus fled Hogwarts when they tried to arrest him, where is he? Do you know?" Welkin asked.

"I have offered him refuge at Spinner’s End. He is basing himself there temporarily, under the auspices of a Fidelius Charm placed on the location."

"I’m glad you’re helping him. I feel so bad about the way I acted to him when Sully almost…died." Welkin didn’t want to use the disturbing word, but forced herself to. It had never really occurred to her before that any of them might actually die before this was over. Even when she and Severus went to Malfoy Manor, despite some early faltering, she had at last had confidence they would eventually find a way out of the danger they were in.

She turned to look at Sully, lying on his stomach, his tiny fists clutching soft handfuls of the black furry rug in front of their bed. He was finally tuckered out and sound asleep after energetically traversing and exploring their bedchamber all evening in a continuous crawling expedition.

"Albus knows that you were only upset about Sullivan, and did not mean what you said," Snape told her. "But at any rate, we shall be at Spinner’s End later this month and you can tell him yourself, if he is still in residence there."

Snape rose and walked to the rug, where he knelt on one knee to retrieve Sully’s limp, drowsy body from the floor, rising to carry him carefully to the cradle, and settle him in for the night.

Welkin watched him thoughtfully. Severus was actually quite good with Sully. He was a really good father, she thought proudly, even though she still teased him about disliking children. It was a pity that his solicitous behavior with his son didn’t extend itself to his students more often. A lot of them seemed so unnerved by him. They didn't know what a good man he really was, like she did.

Snape paused to arrange the blanket precisely over his son, and smoothed Sullivan's wild hair slightly. For some reason, a thought of Harry flashed through his mind. Harry was Lily’s son too, as well as James Potter’s, he reminded himself. He quickly dismissed the thought from his mind and turned back to Welkin.

"My encounter with Dolores Umbridge was most unsettling," he admitted. "I have great need of you tonight, my wife."

"Using sex to self-medicate? That’s something I can certainly agree with as a curative. Particularly when it involves ‘submitting’ myself to your - what was it you called it at the Malfoys? - ‘Base desires’?" Welkin laughed. "But can we have a glass of wine, and talk a little about less important things first?"

"Always and forever, my sweet," Snape responded, with a genuine smile this time.

* * *

Welkin followed Ginny and Luna to their table at _The Three Broomsticks_ , narrowly avoiding a collision with Neville Longbottom, who was so entranced with Madam Rosmerta, the popular and attractive but much more mature bartender, that he nearly ran into Welkin on his way back to his own table.

"Are you sure it’s okay for me to tag along tonight? This seems like a pretty young crowd for the most part," Welkin observed. Welkin would have preferred being with Severus, but the girls had invited her, and she didn't want to disappoint them by turning them down. Maybe she and Severus needed a little break from each other every now and then. 

"Of course it's okay," Ginny told her. "All kinds of people come in here. Even Snape…I mean, Professor Snape," she corrected herself, trying to sound more respectful of him for Welkin’s benefit.

"Are _you_ sure that it’s okay that Hermione’s joining us here?" Ginny asked bluntly, referring obliquely to her knowledge of the other girl’s crush on Snape, and her impulsive declaration of love to him, which had led to a brief but painful separation between Welkin and Snape.

"Of course. That’s all water under the dungeons now. That misunderstanding has all been straightened out. She’s dating your brother now, isn’t she?"

"I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. More like mooning over one another." Ginny sniffed. "Neither one of them has the guts to admit they want to snog each other’s brains out."

Welkin laughed at Ginny's astute observation as they took their seats. 

"Don’t get me wrong - I like Hermione - but sometimes she acts like she’s got a stick up her butt! She just doesn’t want to have any fun. All she wants to do is go to the library, and hang around with Ron and Harry," Ginny complained.

"She’s very smart, and she’s very pretty," Luna defended her. "I wish she had been sorted into Ravenclaw. I would have liked her for a roommate." Luna’s own series of roommates had not always been kind to her, or willing to put up with her numerous eccentricities.

"She does seem to have a lot of Ravenclaw tendencies," Welkin agreed. "But I think her heart is with Gryffindor - for more reasons than one - Ginny’s brother Ron being only one of them."

Welkin patted Luna’s hand consolingly, and turned back to Ginny. 

"They both just seem a little shy. _Que sera sera_ ," Welkin concluded. Welkin didn’t really want to spend the evening discussing Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley’s romantic problems - especially since there was apparently no sex involved to be discussed.

Hermione certainly hadn’t been that shy when it came to throwing herself at Severus, Welkin thought. The way Sevvy had described it to Welkin, he hadn’t had time to react to stop her. The girl had apparently jumped on him like a hungry duck on a Junebug.

The adults who moaned and groaned about getting older, who longed for a return to their teenage years, didn’t know what they were talking about, Welkin thought. It was definitely better to be older, and not have to go through all that teenage angst again.

"I can’t believe Professor Snape let you come out with us tonight," Ginny said. 

"Well, for one thing - Professor Snape doesn’t _‘let me’_ do anything," Welkin informed her. "I do what I want to do. I don’t know why everybody assumes that he’s my Lord and Master, or my boss or something, just because I’m married to him. He isn’t like that. At least - not most of the time," Welkin admitted truthfully. "He trusts me completely, and I trust him."

Sometimes Severus actually _was_ like that, but she could usually argue or sweet talk her way out of the stickier situations that arose with him whenever he disagreed with her conduct, and was less than flexible about it.

It was true that Severus had bent her ear with a long list of things she was not to discuss tonight; like their sex life, his personal habits, their living quarters, and her own bloodline, and unique magical abilities. She was glad they didn’t know about his detailed admonitions to her. Welkin didn’t want to seem like she was some helpless little female twit, who was completely cowed by her husband, and let him call all the shots in their marriage.

Thank goodness nobody knew about the spanking incident, or they would _really_ think that she was under his thumb!

Luna spotted Hermione as she entered the door, and waved her over. Hermione seated herself across from Welkin, and gave a general greeting, glancing a little apprehensively at Welkin.

No need for those nervous looks, Welkin thought. She had already relegated Hermione’s brief and ill-considered pursuit of Severus to her mental trash bin of discarded threats and affronts. The girl had admitted that Snape had wanted none of her when she flung herself at him, and had set things to rights between her and Severus by telling the truth. Welkin didn’t hold grudges unless she had a real reason to.

Luna bought the first round for their table, and to Welkin’s disappointment, she received a tankard of Butterbeer along with the rest of them. Butterbeer was tasty and pleasant enough, but essentially not very fulfilling as a beverage from the perspective of a non-teetotaler. Welkin’s normal taste ran to something a bit more bracing, like firewhisky or champagne. She took a sip of her Butterbeer, and tried to make the best of it.

Severus and Albus were always telling her that she needed to be more of a role model for the students when she was around them. She agreed with that - to an extent. The big difference in their philosophy and hers was that she thought being a role model should also include occasionally modeling a little less perfect, but more realistic image of human behavior for the kids, as well as the stodgier, adult kind of behavior they wanted her to model. These kids were not babies anymore, after all, and they were smarter than that. They knew that adults weren’t always quite as perfect and all-knowing as they made themselves out to be.

They had spent about fifteen minutes in idle chit-chat about classes at Hogwarts, boys who were here tonight that the girls thought were cute, and other harmless mental flotsam and jetsam, when Luna suddenly announced: "Oh, look, there’s Professor Snape."

Welkin turned in her seat just in time to see Snape select a table near the side wall, about three tables away from theirs, and settle himself in alone, carrying his own order of firewhisky.

"What was that you were saying earlier about trusting each other completely?" Ginny said, giving her a knowing smirk.

"Is he just going to sit there and stare at us all evening?" Hermione asked, remembering the Christmas party at the Burrow.

"Oh, I’m sure he’s not planning to stay," Welkin said hastily. "Excuse me, ladies. I think I’ll go say hello to my husband. I’ll be right back."

She rose and, carrying her drink, made her way over to Snape’s table. Snape immediately rose and attempted to seat her at his table with him, but she waved him away.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Welkin demanded. "Are you spying on me?" 

"Of course not, Wells. It was a bit lonesome in our chambers since you chose to desert me this evening, and I thought that I would come to _The Three Broomsticks_ for a drink. If I were spying, I would have been a bit more discreet about it, and not seated myself in plain view of your table, do you not think?" Snape reasoned.

"I did _not_ desert you," Welkin denied, sounding exasperated. "Don’t you try to work on my sympathy with that _‘poor little lonesome me’_ act. This is the first night I’ve been out on my own in months, and you know that. Those girls think you’re being creepy and obsessive, and I don’t blame them. What did you do with Sully, anyway? You didn’t leave him alone, did you?"

"Of course not. Minerva has him," Snape said, sounding affronted at the accusation that he might do such a thoughtless thing. 

"I just got through telling them how much we trust each other, and then here you pop up. It hasn’t even been an hour," Welkin complained.

"You are discussing our relationship with those adolescent dunderheads? Did I not specifically request that you not engage in any such idle chatter?" Snape frowned at her.

"Don’t try to twist this back onto me," Welkin told him. "We have liquor at home, if you wanted a drink. But if you really were feeling so sociable suddenly, why couldn’t you just go to the _Hog’s Head_ instead of showing up here?"

"I happen to favor this establishment," Snape countered. "It is my regular…" He mentally groped for the word she had used before, and found it. " _Hangout_ …yes…it is my regular hangout," he announced triumphantly. "Are you sure you would not like to join me?" he asked hopefully.

"This is girls' night out," Welkin informed him. "The last time I checked, you didn’t have the right equipment to qualify for that. Just have your drink and go home, Severus. I’ll see you later tonight." She turned and strode back to her table.

"It was not an act. It really _was_ quite lonesome," Snape muttered to himself defensively. He had been completely honest about that.

He didn’t understand how his Welkin could choose to abandon him tonight, in favor of spending a boring evening with those three annoying little chits, drinking _Butterbeer_ , of all things. Why hadn’t she asked him to join them? Would that have been so unthinkable? And she had not even kissed him when she left to rejoin them. Severus sat there frowning, as Welkin and the girls resumed their conversation.

* * *

"He’s still there, isn’t he?" Welkin sighed, without looking in his direction. An hour had gone by, and Snape had merely ordered another drink, and made no move for the door.

"Yep. Just like Ron when he tries to Disapparate," Ginny reported with a grin. 

"Couldn’t we just invite him over to sit with us?" Luna blinked at them innocently.

"No!" Hermione and Ginny shouted in unison. 

"Well, you don’t have to be so _rude_ about it!" Welkin told them. "It’s not equivalent to a fate worse than death to socialize with my husband, you know. He’s a very good conversationalist," she said, defending her Severus. "We have interesting talks and debates all the time."

Of course, most of those conversations usually ended in sex, Welkin admitted to herself, but what was wrong with that? Spirited intellectual exchange with each other just made them both a little horny, that’s all.

"You know, this place is getting boring anyway. Who’s up to go to the _Hog’s Head_?"

"Me!" Ginny said immediately. Of the three of them, Ginny Weasley was definitely the most adventurous girl, Welkin had observed. She liked that about her.

Luna, who had been there before at Welkin’s opening night as a singer there, was okay with the idea. That left Hermione.

"Maybe you wouldn’t feel comfortable there, Hermione," Welkin hinted, trying to give the girl an easy out if she wanted it. "It’s a little more rough-hewn than the usual places you hang out, I expect."

"I’ve been to the _Hog’s Head_ before your opening night," Hermione told her, looking insulted. "We met there to discuss Dumbledore’s Army and our objectives."

"I just meant that you have to be prepared if you’re accosted by some guy who tries to get overly friendly with you. Some of the men who come in there are a bit eager for female companionship."

"She means they’re horny," Ginny clarified bluntly, grinning at Hermione. 

"I’m not a baby. I know what she meant, and I can take care of myself," Hermione informed them both. "But Professor Snape is just going to follow us there. It’s pretty obvious that he’s not about to let _you_ out of his sight," she told Welkin.

Welkin ignored Hermione's observation about Snape's intentions. She should just keep her analytical little mind off of her husband, _thankyouverymuch_ , and let Welkin worry about what he might or might not do.

"Good. We’re all in. Then, here’s my idea. Ginny and I will go to the ladies room, and then sneak out the side door. You and Luna follow us several minutes later, and we’ll take off for the _Hog’s Head_ before he even misses us," Welkin plotted. "I don’t think it would even occur to him that I’d take you there. He thinks you're babies, who don't know how to handle themselves. He’ll just get tired of looking for us all over Hogsmeade, and go home," she said confidently.

The girls all enthusiastically nodded their agreement to the plan to ditch Snape.

"Don’t worry. I won’t let the big bad wolves get you," Welkin grinned, as she and Ginny headed for the ladies room.

"If he’s cute enough, one can get _me!_ " Ginny responded, as they traipsed right past the ladies room, and went out the side door exit.

* * *


	43. Hermione Takes a Walk on the Wild Side - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin's plan to ditch Snape on their girls' night outing runs into a hitch. Hermione is annoyed at Snape and Welkin's public display, but gains an admirer who might not be what he seems to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter includes the original character of Julien Bell.

* * *

Welkin and her crew of girls entered the _Hog’s Head,_ jubilant at the way they had managed to give Snape the slip.

Their self-congratulatory chuckles lasted less than ten seconds, because sitting placidly at a table in the corner, calmly enjoying a firewhisky, and obviously awaiting their arrival, was Professor Severus Snape.

"Brilliant plan," Hermione told Welkin wryly. 

"We ran all the way. He must have Apparated here," Welkin mumbled. "How did he know where…"

"Apparently he knows you better than you think," Hermione replied, not giving her time to finish.

Julien Bell, looking quite handsome in a navy blue frock coat and trousers, appeared out of nowhere and greeted Welkin, as her young companions eyed the attractive man with interest.

"Hello, Julien," Welkin said, introducing them each by name. He kissed each young lady’s hand gallantly, seeming to linger a little over Hermione’s, Welkin noticed.

"Would you do me the favor of seating these ladies, and keeping them entertained for a while. I have someone I have to talk to," she said.

"It would be my pleasure," Julien replied, as Welkin distractedly walked away towards Snape’s table for the second time this evening.

Welkin stopped in front of Snape, who had his head down. Persephone the goat was at his side, as usual, with her hairy little chin resting contentedly on his right knee.

Welkin cleared her throat to get his attention, then realized that was a Dolores Umbridge tactic, and felt chagrined about it when he looked up at her.

"I hate to sound like a broken record, but what are you doing here?" she asked. 

"I believe that you informed me that this was the establishment I should have gone to in the first place, Welkin," he said innocently. "Is that not so?"

"Well, yes, but…" 

"Then, I was merely following your instructions," he smirked, idly stroking Persephone on the head as he did.

"You think you’re _sooooo_ smart, don’t you? Just because you figured out where we were going, and beat us here."

"It did not exactly require much deep analysis, my pet. I know you, and your inclinations, and I followed them to the logical conclusion. Please seat yourself while we resolve this, won’t you," he requested. He had been talking to her with his head down again, but now he looked up at her expectantly.

Welkin sank into the seat next to his, frowning suspiciously. His whole tone with her had changed.

"I can’t stay long. I have to get back to the girls," she said. 

"No hurry. Julien and his friends appear to be entertaining them quite well," Snape reported.

Welkin turned to look at the table he was gazing at, where two other attractive young gentlemen had joined Julien, and were conversing with Ginny and Luna, as Julien fixed his attentions on Hermione.

"I guess there’s no hurry after all. They seem to be all paired off, and I’d probably feel like an unwanted old hag sitting over there with no one to talk to," Welkin sighed.

"Not so old, most assuredly wanted, and certainly _not_ a hag," Snape told her. "Definitely _always_ welcome at _my_ table," he added. "I would not want you to be made to feel unwanted and unappreciated, by abandoning you and implying that you were not fit company for my friends," he said archly.

"Oh, Sevvy, was _that_ what you thought I was doing to _you?_ " Welkin asked, suddenly realizing how rude she must have been to him at _The Three Broomsticks_.

"What was I to think?" he responded. "You seemed so anxious to be rid of me." 

"I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean _anything_ like that. Honestly, I didn’t. You know that I’d much rather be with you than anybody, but I just thought you’d make the girls uncomfortable because you’re their teacher, and it would just be too awkward."

"They teased you about me, I presume?" 

"Well…yes," she admitted. 

"You thought that they would think that I had you under my control," he astutely observed. 

"Yes!" she said, looking startled. Was he in her mind now? She couldn’t feel him. But he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. The thought that he could read her so well was both thrilling and a little alarming.

Snape took her hand, and turned her palm up, pressing his lips lightly to the center of it in a kiss. "Does it really matter to you what they think about us?" he asked in that low, silky voice that made her quiver.

"No, not really," she conceded. 

"Where is the woman who doesn’t care what other people think?" he asked. 

"Here," she said, a little tremor in her own low voice now. 

"Then…show…her…to…me," he commanded, stretching out the demand, as he leaned into her, suddenly grasped the back of her head, and pulled her to him to join their lips in a kiss.

* * *

"There they go again," Hermione announced, sounding irritated. 

Julien turned and observed the sight she was referring to: Welkin and Snape sharing a deeply passionate kiss at Snape’s table. It was not an unfamiliar sight to him. No one who regularly frequented the _Hog’s Head_ was unused to the sight of them, or any other couple for that matter, kissing in public. No one paid much attention, or felt inclined to gossip about it. Perhaps that is why they felt free to indulge themselves here.

He turned back to Hermione, his grey, vaguely wolfish eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don’t you approve of kissing, Hermione?"

"Not in public, Mr. Bell, and certainly not in such an exhibitionistic way as that," she informed him. "Who do they think they are? Marc Antony and Cleopatra? Of course, she _did_ dress like an Egyptian Queen for her debut here. Maybe that’s how she fancies herself."

"You don’t like Welkin very much, do you?" Julien cocked his head at her, as if he were assessing her. "Jealous, perhaps? You don’t fancy Professor Snape yourself, do you?"

"Jealous? Of course not!" Hermione protested. "I don’t dislike Welkin. I just think they should show a little more self-control in public, that's all."

"Cleopatra wasn’t technically an Egyptian Queen, by the way," Bell told her. 

"Yes, she was," Hermione argued. "I’ve read all about her." 

"I’m sure you have, being Hogwarts’ most brilliant academic student, and all. But Cleopatra was _Pharaoh_ , not Queen, and was of _Macedonian_ ancestry, not Egyptian, so technically, I am right, and you are wrong. You don’t _like_ being wrong, do you, Hermione?" He was looking at her with amusement now.

"I’m perfectly capable of admitting when I’m wrong, Mr. Bell," she answered, glaring at him. "But I’m not."

The waitress interrupted the disagreement by bringing the drinks Julien had ordered, and distributing the glasses among them.

"This isn’t Butterbeer. I asked for Butterbeer," Hermione said, eyeing the illicit firewhisky in her glass. "We’re not supposed to drink this, and they’re not supposed to serve it to us."

"A lot of things are done here at the _Hog’s Head_ that aren’t supposed to be done. Unless there’s a Ministry official here - and there isn’t one here tonight, you'll be relieved to know - you’re perfectly safe. Your teacher is rather occupied at the moment, as you pointed out. He’s not likely to report you."

Hermione still hesitated. 

"Well, if you’re afraid to have a _real_ drink, instead of that babies' pabulum you ordinarily drink, and you’re afraid to bend a few of those iron-clad rules of yours, I’ll just…" He reached to remove her firewhisky.

"Leave it!" Hermione ordered, picking up the glass. Ginny was already drinking hers, and even Luna wasn’t refusing her first taste of the forbidden liquid. She didn’t want to be the only one who was afraid to try it.

She took a gulp, and coughed as it burned on the way down. 

"That’s the Gryffindor spirit!" Julien laughed at her. "You Gryffs never like to turn down a challenge, do you? Particularly Harry Potter’s friend and compatriot in that little not-so-secret society you liked to call Dumbledore’s Army."

"How do you know so much about what goes on at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, taking another, much more careful sip of her drink, to keep from coughing this time.

"I used to be a student at Hogwarts, of course, and I still have some contacts there, some of them among Gryffindor," he answered.

"You were sorted into Gryffindor?" she asked, looking dubious. He didn’t seem the type.

"No," he said, frowning for the first time. Then he smiled again, and leaned in much too close to her. "I was sorted _Slytherin_ ," he hissed. He laughed when she gave a small involuntary start. He drew back again, and took a deep gulp of his drink, smiling at her.

"Don’t you have any Slytherin friends, Hermione?" he asked. "We’re not so bad, once you get to know us. Some even find us to be desirable companions."

Hermione got the distinct impression that he was toying with her, and making fun of her lack of sophistication.

"That might be your opinion of yourself, Mr. Bell, but…" 

"Julien," he corrected her. "I’m not at Hogwarts anymore, and you’re not my professor, that you should be calling me 'Mr. Bell'. Call me by my given name. And by the way, your companions don’t seem to share your low opinion of public displays of affection," he added.

Hermione turned to look, and was surprised to see Ginny already sitting on her new companion’s lap, kissing him, and even Luna was allowing her young man the liberty of putting his arm around her, and giving her a mostly chaste kiss on the cheek.

When she turned back to him, Julien was openly smirking at her. 

"Finish your drink, Hermione," he said. "You’re not keeping up with the rest of us tonight," he said, with what she suspected was a double meaning.

Hermione felt a sudden flash of anger at his smug attitude. 

Not keeping up, was she? She’d show him! Without thinking about it, Hermione leaned over the table and grabbed the insufferable Julien Bell by the back of his head as she had seen Snape do to Welkin, pulled him forward, and pressed her lips to his, kissing him firmly and thoroughly before releasing him.

"Gryff! You surprise me," Julien told her, the smug look erased from his face, much to her satisfaction. "That’s more like it. Ten points to Gryffindor!"

* * *

"I love the way that you kiss me, Sevvy. I could kiss you for hours," Welkin swooned, gazing into his eyes.

"Perhaps we should go home then," he suggested, pressing his advantage with her. 

He was so enticingly close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her face as he spoke. She could smell the distinctive masculine scent of his body, unadorned by the artificial enhancement of cologne, as was his habit, and her personal preference. She took another deep whiff of him, and unconsciously licked her lips at the thought of tasting him again.

"You don’t know how tempted I am," she admitted. "When you kiss me like that, I just want to throw you down on this table, and suck the breath right out of you."

"That would be somewhat counterproductive, my sweet. Were you to suck the breath from me, I would be dead, and I would not be able to fully pleasure you as I very much desire to do right now." He gave her a teasing look, but it was tinged heavily with the desire he spoke of.

"I’d find a way to bring you back to life. Trust me," Welkin promised. 

"I have no doubt of it, my little Life Giver," Snape told her. "Just the nearness of you is bringing me to life now," he added, knowing that she would recognize his meaning.

Her eyes flicked downward to glance at his jacket, which was concealing his crotch. Yes, she knew what he meant, perfectly. But what could she do about it here?

Welkin nonchalantly placed her hand on Severus’s knee, and started to slide it upwards, but Persephone, apparently jealous that Welkin was getting the lion’s share of Snape’s attention now, nipped at her.

" _Ow!_ " Welkin yelped, causing a few nearby customers to turn and stare at her. 

"Away with you," Snape ordered, waving his hand at the goat, which suddenly became very compliant, and trotted away into a corner.

"Are you injured, my love?" Snape asked with concern, examining her hand. 

"I’ll live, I guess. Damn that goat anyway! She thinks she owns you!" 

"I shall have a talk with her about recognizing your property rights," Snape told her.

Welkin giggled. "Sevvy…you told a joke," she grinned. 

"Do not act so surprised," he said. "If I were not possessed of an excellent sense of humour, I would never have wished to marry someone as bedeviling as you."

"The joke's on you. I said yes."

"Eventually, and under some considerable coaxing, and minor subterfuge. But, back to more serious matters," he told her, and moved her hand back to his thigh, within inches of his erection, which they both knew was aching for her touch.

"Are you sure you’re okay with this?" she whispered. 

"I have every confidence in your ability to defy detection," he answered, to her delight. Welkin loved doing it in public places, but Severus rarely would do anything quite this daring.

How could she manage this? Welkin thought. 

"Scoot a little further up to the table," she whispered, moving her chair a little closer to his. She leaned close to him, as if to engage him in intimate conversation.

As he moved his chair further underneath the table, she pulled the tablecloth out, and slipped her hand beneath it. Snape’s thighs and crotch were now fairly effectively concealed from view beneath the tablecloth. Thankfully, there was also only dim lighting from the candles on the tables.

When she moved her hand to his crotch, Welkin was surprised to find Snape already unzipped, in anticipation. Her hand slid inside his trousers and shorts, and closed over him, as he gave a quick intake of breath, and a mostly quiet groan that only she heard.

"You weren’t lying, were you, Sevvy?" Welkin whispered as she began by stroking her fingers over his hardness appreciatively. "You really _did_ miss me, didn’t you?"

* * *

"Looking for more pointers?" Julien asked, as he noticed that Hermione had resumed staring at Welkin and Snape at their table.

"She’s practically in his lap," Hermione said disapprovingly. 

"I expect that she is. Or he’s in hers. Or perhaps they both are in each other's," Julien quipped, not bothering to look this time.

"Don’t be so nasty," Hermione told him, finishing her drink. "You sound like Cormac McLaggan."

"Boyfriend?" 

"No! Not in a million years. He’s horrid! All hands and mouth!" 

"Sounds like a boyfriend to me." 

"I wouldn’t know." 

"You wouldn’t…" Julien looked puzzled. "You surprise me, Gryff. An attractive girl like you has never had a boyfriend?"

Hermione stopped looking at Snape’s table, and looked at Julien instead, this time with closer scrutiny.

"You think I’m attractive?" 

"Of course. Lovely, really. Your skin, your eyes, that wild mane of hair of yours. A regular academic Aphrodite, that’s what I’d call you. Maybe I’ll write a song about you," he smiled.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Hermione asked bluntly. 

"I’d like to, but no, I’m simply giving you a compliment, Gryff." 

"You’d _like_ to seduce me?" Hermione’s voice softened perceptibly to his ear. 

"If you’d climb down out of that ivory tower for a little while, I’d give it a shot," Julien said, studying her intently. He could almost see the wheels in that amazing brain of hers turning as she looked back at him.

Snape didn’t want her, Ron was too much of a boy to claim her, and Cormac and others like him were much too crude for her taste. It was time, Hermione decided, and she could do a lot worse than Julien Bell for her first time. He was handsome and clever, and was a man instead of a boy. He would be experienced, and know what to do. She glanced one more time at Snape's table, where he seemed totally engrossed with his wife to the exclusion of anything and anyone else in the room. Welkin wouldn't hesitate, would she? Hermione thought. She never seemed to let rationality get in the way of her emotions or desires.

"Do you have a room here?" Hermione asked suddenly. 

Julien looked surprised again. "Of course. Would you care to see it, milady? It’s not a castle, but it’s clean, I can promise you that, and you’ll make it shine even brighter."

"Yes…I think I _would_ like to see it," Hermione said firmly. They rose from their chairs, and she grabbed her bag. "Ginny, Luna, I’ll see you back at Hogwarts. Julien will take me home. We’re going for a walk."

Julien extended his arm to her. "Your servant, milady." She took his arm and followed him into the hallway, and up the stairs.

* * *


	44. The Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should have been a pleasant summer break from Hogwarts brings some very disturbing events into Severus's and Welkin's lives.

* * *

The summer of 1996 was not a good one for Severus and Welkin Snape, even though it started out with Severus being a hero on two separate occasions.

Snape alerted Albus Dumbledore when Harry and members of Dumbledore’s Army were lured to the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries by Harry’s vision of Sirius Black being tortured there. It was a false vision induced by Voldemort to entrap Harry, who unwisely charged off in pursuit of his godfather’s rescue.

With the alert from Snape, members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived just in time, but in the intense battle, Black was killed. Albus battled Voldemort, who fled, then rounded up most of the Death Eaters who had sought to do the Dark Lord’s bidding. Among those subsequently sent to Azkaban was Welkin’s would-be rapist, Lucius Malfoy.

With Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge finally forced to admit that Voldemort had returned, Albus was reinstated as Headmaster at Hogwarts. But from there, everything went horribly wrong.

Albus, who had been hunting the Horcruxes made by Voldemort in his bid for immortality, was severely injured when he tried to destroy one. Although his life was initially saved by Snape, Severus told Welkin that the injury would eventually prove fatal, and Albus only had a year at the most to live. There was no cure for the condition he suffered from.

But the worst was yet to come, as Welkin discovered. She learned too late to influence the decision, that Severus had entered an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy, pledging to protect her son Draco. Draco, who to Welkin’s great shock, had joined the ranks of the Death Eaters like his father, had been tapped by the Dark Lord to kill Albus Dumbledore. Part of the vow Severus made was to finish the job in Draco’s stead if Draco could not. If he reneged on his vow, he was a dead man.

For days after learning this, Welkin would break down and cry whenever she looked at Severus. Their summer at Spinner’s End, which she had so looked forward to, had turned into a nightmare.

* * *

"But my love, there was _not time_ to seek your counsel," Snape protested, as Welkin cried and ranted at him for the third time in as many days.

"Yes, there was! You should have _taken_ the time, and not let yourself be talked into a vow like that by Narcissa and that crazy jail bird of a sister of hers!"

Snape tried to put his arms around her again, but she walked away to fling herself on the couch angrily.

"Please cease this, Welkin. I cannot bear this from _you_ , of all people. Have I not enough to endure as it is?"

Welkin stopped her wailing, and snuffled a little more as she considered that. Snape sat down beside her, and finally succeeded in putting his arms around her, and pulling her against his chest. It comforted him as much as it did her, to hold her close to him like this.

"I’m sorry to be acting like this, Severus, but I just can’t help it. I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you, or to Albus either. I just know something terrible is going to happen to you because of this. How could Draco do this, and how could Narcissa ask you to take on such a horrible, disgusting obligation? She doesn’t care about you at all - all she cares about is Draco. We have to tell Albus."

"Albus knows," Snape said quietly. 

"How does he dare to do this to you? Hasn't he stolen enough of your life? Does he have to keep coming back for more? Albus doesn't care either. Not really. Or he wouldn't make you do this," Welkin said angrily.

It was quite obvious to Severus that Welkin was the only one who _did_ really care what happened to him. He did not think that he would be able to endure this without her. At least Albus had given him that much.

"He is coming here tonight, but not to discuss this matter. He is coming for a much needed social visit. I had hoped that you could elevate his spirits by perhaps cooking something which he might enjoy. Do you think that you could do that, my pet?"

"Well…yes…I guess I can," Welkin told him hesitantly. If it was what Severus wanted, then she would just have to put aside her own feelings for the night, she decided. She didn't want to make it more difficult for him than it already was. He needed her to be strong about this.

"Excellent. I am pleased that you will support me in this, regardless of our feelings in the matter," Severus said.

"Of course, I support you, Severus," Welkin murmured, hugging him tightly. "I always will." 

"Please do not cry again. It is quite disturbing to me, and if this house were not so well-insulated, I cannot imagine what the neighbors might be thinking," Snape told her.

"I’ll try not to cry anymore, but I’m just so upset about this. Severus Snape, don’t you dare even _think_ about dying! If you die, I swear that I’m going to...I'll just never _speak_ to you again!"

Welkin dissolved into tears again, her promise to try to control her emotions forgotten, as she couldn’t help dwelling once again on what terrible thing might happen to Severus.

Snape did not bother to point out to Welkin how nonsensical her threat sounded. 

"Promise me!" she insisted. 

"Very well, my sweet," he told her. "I promise you that I shall not die." If I can help it, he added a caveat silently to himself.

"Good!" Welkin huffed. "You’d better not!" she warned, hugging him to herself as tightly as she could.

"I would not dare. You are most fearsome, my love. I believe that Wormtail was quite frightened of you when you ejected him from our home this morning with the admonition never to return."

"Well, he's creepy. I don't want him around the baby. What kind of a person lets himself be called Wormtail, anyway, instead of his real name? I wish I’d ejected Narcissa and Bella as soon as they got here too," Welkin said. "I should never have left you alone with them."

Snape looked concerned at her mention of Bella. "Do not engage with Bella in any way. She is, as you have pointed out, quite mentally unbalanced. She could do you great harm, and I fear that she may already wish to do so, without any further provocation."

"Damn straight. Did you see the way she looked at me when you sent me upstairs with Sully? What does she have against me? I hadn’t even met her before today," Welkin said, starting to calm down again.

"Bella is quite…admiring of the Dark Lord," Snape told her. "Unfortunately, he has mentioned you favorably to her, and she dislikes you for it, perhaps even hates you."

"What do you mean? Favorably in what way? I thought he was convinced that I’m an idiot," Welkin said.

"Your physical attributes and your comeliness, my sweet. He may think you none too astute mentally, but though his form is misshapen, he still remains enough of a man to not be immune to your physical charms," Snape informed her.

Welkin shivered at the thought and grew silent, as Snape stroked her calmingly.

* * *

"That was a delicious fruit crumble, my dear," Dumbledore complimented her. "I can see why Severus is gaining a little weight these days."

"Thank you, Albus. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some more?" Welkin asked. 

"I don't believe that I could hold more, but I will have another glass of wine, I think."

Snape obliged him with a generous pouring, and poured more for Welkin and himself as well.

"It’s not often that I get invited to someone’s home these days," Albus continued. "A great many of my contemporaries have departed this vale ahead of me, I’m afraid to say."

"You’re always welcome in our home, Albus," Welkin said. "For as long as…" 

"I live?" Albus finished for her. "Severus tells me that may not be such a long-term commitment at that."

"I could try to heal you," Welkin offered. 

"That is very kind of you, but the Life Giver’s healing gift only works at the point of death, the legend goes. Despite appearances, I assure you that I am not yet that far gone, as you Americans might say," Albus joked.

An awkward silence settled on them across the table. Welkin could think of nothing to fill it, and she struggled not to let the tears fill her eyes again, as Severus had asked her not to cry in front of their friend and honored guest.

"I shall finish my wine, and then I must be off, I think. But before I take my leave of you, may I take a look at Sullivan? I promise not to wake him."

"Of course," Welkin said. "Severus and I will take you upstairs to his room. It’s right next to our bedroom."

"Good…very good," Albus said, sounding a little distracted. "It always cheers me so, to see the wee ones. It’s the renewal of life, you know. As miraculous as any of our magic."

It was at that moment that Severus realized that, unlike Voldemort, Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful Wizard of his era, was starting to come to terms with his own mortality.

* * *


	45. The Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin amiably performs another kind of wifely duty for Severus - washing his hair. Severus agrees to a picnic outing for Welkin's belated birthday gift, where they eat, drink, and play 'ravish the water nymph'.

* * *

Welkin finished struggling with Sully to get his shirt and pants on after his morning bath, gave up on the idea of shoes, kissed him thoroughly, and set him down on the bathroom floor.

"Nake! Nake!" he demanded, raising one hand in the air as he looked up at her. 

"You and that nasty, filthy snake," Welkin told him. She gave it a quick Scourgifying with her wand before handing it down to him.

"Da," Sully announced wisely. 

"Yes, Da gave that to you, didn’t he?" Welkin agreed. "But I’m not Scourgifying _him_. Mama likes it when _he’s_ nasty and filthy!" She laughed to herself, amused by the visual images that sprang to mind.

Sully laughed too, then crawled away into the bedroom with the somewhat bedraggled looking stuffed toy, right past his ‘nasty, filthy’ father, who was standing in the doorway looking at Welkin expectantly, holding a large purple bottle of shampoo.

"Next!" Welkin shouted. 

"Strip down, please," she instructed, as Severus handed her the shampoo, and she moved a chair into place in front of the sink. "Unless you want to get your clothes wet."

Snape quickly stripped off his jacket and shirt, settled into the chair, and leaned back with a pleased look on his face.

It was amazing how fast he could do that, Welkin thought, considering how many buttons were involved. It was probably because he’d had so many years of practice buttoning himself up, both literally and figuratively. Fortunately she’d been able to loosen his figurative buttons quite a bit in a much shorter time – at least, he was somewhat different, and more relaxed, when he was alone with her. His public persona had changed a little as well, but not very much. Severus Snape was still a very private person, and always would be, she conceded – and that was alright with Welkin, because she loved him any way that he chose to be.

Welkin wet his hair thoroughly with warm water, and added a bit of shampoo. The mild lilac scent of the shampoo had been a point of contention between them at first, but Severus had allowed her to use it on him when she pointed out that, not only was she quite partial to the smell, but that no one else ever got that close to him but her, so they probably wouldn’t be able to smell it on him anyway.

Welkin lathered him up, and began to work her fingers through his hair, and massage his scalp. Snape closed his eyes, and let a tiny smile quirk the corners of his mouth. He loved the way it felt when Welkin pampered him by washing his hair for him, and he also loved that she actually enjoyed doing it for him, and did not seem to think it was merely an added chore on her already busy schedule.

"Does that feel good?" Welkin asked, watching as the muscles of Snape’s arms and chest slowly became less rigid and tight.

"It is most relaxing, Wells," he agreed. His dark eyes opened and he stared up at her. "I was just thinking this morning that June was such a harrowing month that we never had an opportunity to celebrate your birthday, my sweet. What do you desire that I purchase for you? Those emerald earrings that we saw that you favored?"

"I don’t need more jewelry, sweetness. Missing my birthday this year is not that big a deal. You don’t have to get me anything special."

"It is a ‘big deal’ to me," he insisted. "Tell me what you wish, and I shall secure it for you."

"What if you just take me and Sully on a birthday picnic? Remember that little stream we found with all the trees around it when we were out walking last year? I’d really like that. You could use a little sunlight and fresh air too."

Welkin thought Severus’s pale skin was sexy, but she wasn’t so sure that it was exactly healthy for him to lock himself away from the sunlight all the time, like he tended to prefer. An outing in the sun would be good for him. 

"What does one do on a picnic excursion?" Snape asked. He used to meet Lily outside in natural settings quite often when he was a child, but there had rarely been food involved. She had mostly talked, and he had mostly listened. 

"Well, you spread out a blanket to sit or lie on in a pretty place, and you eat and drink and enjoy nature. Sometimes you play games. You could read to me and Sully. Lots of things. There are no hard and fast rules," Welkin said. "I assume this means that this is one more thing we can add to the list of things you’ve never done before?"

"That is correct. Where does one acquire the manner of food which one eats on this sort of excursion?"

"Back home you usually made it yourself or bought it at the grocery: tuna sandwiches, fried chicken, potato salad, chips, things like that," she listed. "Maybe some wine, cheese, and fruit." 

A frown creased Snape’s brow. "Except for brewing potions, I do not cook," he told her. "We do not have a house-elf," he added.

"Nor do I want one," Welkin responded firmly. "I don't think it's right to take advantage of them like people do, even if most of them don't want to be freed. They would want their freedom if they knew what they were missing." 

She inexplicably, but quite pleasantly, bent over him and kissed him squarely on his large, hooked nose. 

"We're not too lazy or incompetent to do things for ourselves, are we? I think I could rustle up the food and wine if you’ll take charge of getting the basket to put the food in, and a soft blanket to spread out on the ground," Welkin said.

"Does one ever engage in sexual activities on these excursions?" Snape asked hopefully. 

"That’s been known to happen," Welkin grinned. "But we might have to wait until Sully falls asleep," she added.

"Sullivan does not require a picnic excursion," Snape concluded abruptly. "It is not _his_ birthday. He can attend some other outing with us. I shall ask Mrs. Murdoch if she can travel here to tend to him."

Waiting for sex was not high on Severus Snape's growing list of pleasant things to do. It never had been, but before Welkin, he had not had the option to be either patient or impatient about it. He had no such opportunities for sex at all to contend with. It was amazing to him that, since his marriage, he had occasionally encountered other offers from women who suddenly found him much more desirable. He had turned them down, of course. He had the woman he wanted. He was not in the least bit curious concerning other females and their dubious charms.

Welkin used the spray attachment on the sink to rinse the shampoo from Snape’s hair, gradually cooling the water to assure that his hair would shine. She asked him to sit up as she began to towel dry him.

"So what you’re suggesting is that you want me to make all the food, shop for the wine, leave poor little Sully behind when we go, and have hot wizard sex the rest of the day with you, after you’ve stuffed yourself on my victuals?" Welkin ran the scenario by him for his confirmation.

"Was that not what you had in mind?" Snape asked. 

Welkin took the towel away, and fluffed his hair with her fingers as it began to air dry.

"Of course, sweetness. What else could I have possibly had in mind but that?" she agreed, rolling her eyes behind his back.

He would also secure those emerald earrings for Welkin and present them to her at an opportune moment on their excursion, Snape decided.

Severus wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing his face into her ribcage. He pushed up her blouse and kissed her where his face had been a moment ago, then nibbled beneath each breast in turn. 

"Is this supposed to be my tip?" Welkin asked, mock sarcastically.

"No, this is..." He took her by the hand, and guided it between his legs to his erection. 

He looked up at her confidently, waiting for his smile from her.

* * *

"This appears to be an optimum location," Snape announced, tired of scouting up and down the stream with Welkin for a spot to stage their belated birthday picnic.

Welkin noticed that he had chosen a location beneath one of the shadiest trees in the vicinity. Apparently he had no intention of getting the slightest bit sunburned on this outing. The dense foliage made it highly unlikely that even one sunbeam would strike him directly.

"This is a really pretty spot," Welkin agreed. She grabbed the soft, thick blanket they had brought with them and let him help her spread it on the ground.

"You look very rugged in those jeans," she complimented him. 

"I do not see why I could not wear my normal clothing," Snape grumbled. "These jean pants you selected are too tight, and leave nothing to the imagination."

"I’ll say," Welkin agreed, as she stared openly at his bulging crotch. She had purchased dark denim jeans and a red shirt for Severus to wear on their outing, and after much pleading and promises, had convinced him to actually wear them. His butt looked amazing in them - not to mention the arresting display of that prodigious package of his. He looked splendid both coming and going, and if she had anything to say about it, he would be doing one of those two things at least several times today.

"It’s much too warm for you to wear your regular clothing today. Do you want to have a heat stroke? You’ll get used to them. Just give it a chance. They loosen up after you’ve worn them awhile. I think you look hot in jeans."

"I thought you said I would be hot in my regular clothing," he replied, misunderstanding her.

"I meant hot like _sexy_." she laughed at him. "Not hot like overheated." 

"Oh," he said, finally understanding her meaning, as they reclined together on the blanket, facing each other.

"I should like to inform you that I am not wearing an undergarment. Are you intrigued by this admission?" He arched an eyebrow at her suggestively.

"Very. Is that a new seduction technique you’re trying out? Suddenly announcing that you’re not wearing underpants?"

"Is it effective?" 

"Yes, damn you. Juvenile, but very effective." She moved closer, and pressed herself against him. "We just got here, and we haven’t even eaten yet."

"It is only mid-morn. The breakfast you prepared was very filling, and it is too early to eat again. We shall have to fill the time some other way," he drawled, nuzzling her throat.

* * *

"I feel like we’re in that Eduoard Manet painting, _The Luncheon on the Grass_ ," Welkin remarked. "Are you familiar with it? The one where they’re having a picnic, and the lady is naked on the blanket, and the two gentlemen are having a conversation and ignoring her?"

"No, I have not seen it, but I am certain you could not truthfully characterize my most recent attentions to you as ignoring you," he answered, as he struggled back into his jeans.

Welkin grabbed his new red shirt as he reached for it and put it on herself, not bothering to button the buttons.

"Give me my shirt, Wells," he requested. Severus sounded like a grown version of Sully, who likewise sounded quite similar to his father whenever he demanded his ‘Nake’. They were both adorable when frustrated, Welkin thought.

"No. You don’t need a shirt. You look a little like a satyr without it. I’m going to pretend I’m a water nymph, and you’re a satyr who lured me out of the stream, and is about to ravish me if you catch me," she fantasized.

"Can we not eat something first?" Snape asked. "It is almost noon now, and I have already ravished the water nymph twice, by my reckoning."

"You ravished _me_ , not the water nymph," Welkin corrected. " _She_ hasn’t come out of the water yet. But I suppose you do need to keep your strength up for future ravishments."

She began to distribute food onto the plates they had brought with them, and set them on the blanket. When she was finished, she sank down cross-legged next to them. Snape took his place beside her, and carefully assumed the same position.

"I guess those pants really are a little too tight, huh?" Welkin said, observing how slowly he had lowered himself. "That looked painful."

"If they were any tighter, you would not have to concern yourself about ever becoming pregnant again." Snape frowned.

"I’m sorry, Sevvy. I should have gotten them a little bit looser. I keep forgetting about your other dangly parts - El Grande Cohones!" She kissed him on the cheek.

"If you would not object, then…" He produced his wand from the picnic basket, and cast an enlarging charm, altering his jeans instantly to a still flattering but less snug fit. Snape looked relieved.

"Now that your potency is no longer in jeopardy, eat your lunch, Sevvy, and then we’ll play water nymph. You can be the Greek god Pan, and I’ll be Syrinx - unless you want to be Syrinx," she teased.

"I might have 'girl hair', according to your brother, but as you have pointed out, I lack the equipment to be convincing in such a role," Snape said.

Severus held up his tuna sandwich, and inspected it warily. "What are these elements you have added to this mixture?"

"Chopped hard-boiled egg, onions, pickle, and a little celery. Nothing toxic. You may have a little heartburn later, but you won’t die," she promised.

He took a small bite from the pointed end, and chewed and swallowed cautiously. Apparently it met with his approval as he continued eating until he was finished, and then selected another.

"Have some of my potato chips," she offered, stuffing a Pringle into his mouth. 

"Crisps," he said, crunching on it. 

"What?" 

"They are called potato crisps," he informed her. 

"Oh…on your side of the pond you mean." 

"On _our_ side of the pond," he included her, making her grin.

* * *

After they finished lunch, Snape opened a bottle of wine, and they drank and talked until it was empty.

"Damn. Now what do we do?" Welkin teased, lying against his bare chest as he lay on his back on the blanket, contemplating the leafy tree branches.

"I am the great god Pan," he replied imperiously. "I command that you play my flute, oh beauteous water nymph," he told her. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and lay back expectantly with his hands behind his head.

Welkin squealed loudly, and leapt up from the blanket. "Not on your life, you old goat!"

She threw off his shirt, ran naked to the edge of the stream, and dashed in, standing knee-deep in the water. She turned in the afternoon sunlight, and looked back at him, smiling. Welkin arched her back, and raised her arms above her head, striking a pose and looking every inch the enticing water nymph she was pretending to be.

That did it. 

Snape quickly shucked out of his jeans, nearly falling on the blanket in his haste as his foot became entangled.

Unconstricted at last, he dashed to the water, and waded in with her. 

"No fair! No fair! Pan doesn’t come into the water! He’s supposed to lure her!" Welkin protested.

"Pan does damn well what he pleases! He’s a god!" Snape told her, capturing her easily, since she chose not to struggle. He lifted her in his arms, and strode out deeper into the water until he was at chest level and she had to grab around his neck to keep her head from submerging as he lowered her again.

Snape stood looking tenderly into her eyes and leaned his lips close to hers. Just before they touched, he jerked her arms loose from around his neck and dunked her under the water, pulling her back up, sputtering angrily as she clutched at him again.

"You deserved that for your insolence in running from the great god Pan," he told her.

"Like hell I did!" she coughed. "You tried to drown me!" 

"More insolence?" he asked silkily. "You contradict me?" He grasped her arms again and hesitated this time, letting his intention have time to sink in.

"No! No! I’m not contradicting you, Pan!" she assured him quickly, clutching at him tighter.

He threaded the fingers of one hand through her wet locks of hair and grasped her, pulling her to him for a rough kiss that took her breath away, but silenced her coughing.

"Pleasure me, Welkin," he sighed into her ear, as his other hand slid to her buttocks.

"Syrinx," she reminded him. "I’m Syrinx." 

"No - you are my Welkin, and I am your Severus - not a god, merely a man who loves you," he admitted, capturing her heart as easily as he had her body.

"Be with me in reality," he requested, quoting something that she had once asked of him. "No more fantasies today, Wells…please? I need you."

"Severus," she agreed. "My sweet, sweet Severus…" Welkin kissed him and wrapped her legs around his hips in the water. He had said the magic words, and she wanted nothing more at this moment than to love him and please him, and have him love her in return.

She kissed Severus as if she would never get the opportunity again. His hands slid over her wet skin as she squirmed against him in the water, which was flowing around them on its ceaseless journey downstream, as if inexplicably eager to be away from the idyllic setting.

She felt his hardened cock slap her sharply between the legs as it rigidly stood at attention, and she moaned in his ear. "My love…my love…I need you so much…"

With one hand, Severus grasped his cock and pressed it inside her, starting with a slow movement in and out that rapidly gained momentum as she continued to whisper in his ear; her loving words alternating with the cruder terms which he nonetheless knew were as much an evidence of her love for him as the sweetest of her endearments.

He wanted to fill her pussy with his cock, and he wanted to fill her mind and her heart with him. He wanted to burn himself into her, and brand her in every way possible as his forever, just as she had branded him, replacing the Dark Mark that had once burned his flesh when he was young and foolish.

Welkin began to meet his thrusts, as her mouth sought his eagerly. She felt the water against her back and the wind in her hair as they fucked in the warm July sun. They battered at each other like the waves crashing against the rocks that she often watched from the North Tower window.

"Severus," she panted. "Make me come," she begged, her lips brushing his shoulder, as she dug her nails into him, so close to the edge of fulfillment.

He grasped her thrusting buttocks and pulled her sharply against him, holding her there, squirming against him as she attempted to continue the fucking movement. He rotated his hips and she exploded with pleasure as her orgasm began. Her lips parted and she gave a loud growl, no longer aware of the outside world except for his low moan, and the feeling when he spewed himself into her as he came inside her. Still grinding frantically against him, she opened her mouth again and bit down hard on his shoulder, her nails digging into him even harder.

"My love…my soul," Severus breathed, rotating his hips again as he sought to prolong her pleasure. The crescent moon-shaped bite mark on his shoulder tingled as Welkin tongued it once before letting her head rest against his chest.

* * *


	46. The Prodigy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus incessantly pesters Welkin for sex while on summer holiday. Sully shows his first signs of magical ability, which prompts Severus to repeat his wish to produce more 'progeny' with Welkin.

* * *

Welkin rolled over onto her right side in bed, hovering on the edge of consciousness in the pre-dawn hours. She was just about to return to a sound sleep when suddenly she felt a nudge, and Severus slid his arm around her. Her eyes opened.

"Welkin…are you awake?" he whispered. 

"No, I’m asleep with my eyes open," she replied sarcastically, suspecting that she knew the reason for his asking, since she could feel something hard poking her in the stomach.

"Would you like me to pleasure you?" he asked. Translation: I woke up with a hard-on, and I’d like to fuck you with it.

Welkin rubbed her eyes, and opened them wider, staring at him blearily. 

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" she asked. "We made love four times on the picnic yesterday, and twice last night. How can you possibly want to do it again? What time is it? The sun isn’t even up yet."

"My love for you follows no schedule, and my desire for you knows neither day nor night," Snape told her, pulling her against him. 

"That’s very poetic, but it’s not getting you into my pussy this early in the morning. I’m worn out. I can’t fuck anymore," she whined, and yawned.

"You do not have to," Snape assured her. "You have but to lie there comfortably, and allow me access. You will not have to exert yourself in the slightest way, my love," he promised.

"Well, if you’re going to beg..." Welkin sighed. She raised her nightgown, pulling it up to her waist, and threw one leg over his hip. "No rough stuff though," she cautioned. "It’s too early for that."

She closed her eyes again, with a little smile on her lips, as he primed her briefly with his fingers, and then inserted his cock inside her, rocking it gently in and out.

When he came, several minutes later, with a shiver and one quiet moan, Welkin wrapped her arms around him and petted him tenderly, her eyes still closed. Another minute, and her stroking of him stopped, and Severus heard her low, rhythmic snore again, almost like the purr of a cat.

* * *

"Stop it! Sully’s looking at us!" Welkin cautioned, removing Snape’s hand from her breast again as she stood at the kitchen sink finishing washing the breakfast dishes, with him dutifully drying them for her.

"He has seen your breasts quite often before," Snape reminded her. "He has suckled at them up until quite recently."

"I know that. But he hasn’t seen you with your hands all over them groping me while he’s sitting there in his high chair staring. There’s no telling what’s going through his little head."

"He is probably thinking that his parents are quite enamored of one another. I am certain that is not an emotionally damaging thing," Snape told her, as he shifted his hand to her butt.

"What’s wrong with you? You’ve been after me constantly ever since yesterday. You’re not like this at Hogwarts."

"I am on holiday," Snape announced. "I have very little else to occupy my mind. Might I add that you are not usually this resistant to my attentions," he noted, sounding insulted.

"Don’t be angry, Severus. I know I’m not. It’s just that, normally it’s only three or so times a day, and that seems a little more reasonable, don’t you think?"

"My love for you…" 

"Follows no schedule…yeah, yeah, I heard you say that before," she halted him before he could wax poetic again.

"You are bored by my attentions," Snape accused. He sat back down in his chair at the kitchen table, and looked crestfallen.

"Don’t sulk, Sevvy. I can't stand it when you do that. You know that’s not true. I want you just as much as I ever did - just not every waking hour of the day and night, is all I mean." Standing behind him, she put her arms around his neck and hugged him. "It’s so much more special, don’t you think, if we don’t do it quite so often?"

"No," he said sullenly. 

"Be that way then!" she said. "I’m not going to coddle you every time you decide you’re being ignored. Sit there and pout all day for all I care!" Welkin told him angrily. "Why should I always be the one to give in when you want something?"

"Nake," Sully announced, pointing at the floor where he had just thrown the stuffed animal for the ninth or tenth time this morning.

Welkin started to walk away, but Snape grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his lap.

"Do not be so obstinate, Wells. We shall compromise. I shall not request sex again until the sun goes down today. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Nake! Nake!" Sully announced more insistently. 

"Why do you always compromise only after I get mad at you? Why do I always have to shout at you before you see my point?" Welkin demanded.

" _Nake! Nake! Nake!_ " Sully squealed loudly, trying his best to recapture their attention.

"Because I too am obstinate, my sweet," Snape told her seriously. She stared at him, frowning for a moment, and then broke into a grin at the pompous expression on his face.

"Agreed then," she said. "Let me up, so I can get that damn Nake - I mean snake. He’s got _me_ lisping it now," Welkin complained. "I’m surprised I don’t dream about the damn thing."

She rose, and looked for Sully’s snake on the floor. 

"Nake," Sully said happily, clutching the toy, as Welkin stared at him. 

"Sevvy…did you pick that up for him?" she asked slowly. 

"No…I did not," Snape assured her, his attention now also completely on Sullivan.

Welkin slowly extricated the toy from Sully’s grip, and deliberately dropped it on the floor, as Sully began to fret again.

" _Naaaakkke_ ," he moaned, eyeing it forlornly. He looked at her and motioned. 

"Daaa…Nake, Nake!" Sully waved to Severus when Welkin didn’t move to retrieve it for him.

"Don’t touch it," Welkin told Snape as he started to automatically reach for it.

"Get the snake, Sully. Show Mama how you get the snake," she coached, pointing to it.

Sullivan Severus Snape leaned over, straining against the high chair, stretched out his arms toward the object of his desire, and gave a chuckle of delight as it wobbled through the air, straight into his waiting grasp.

"Fuck me! He can levitate it!" Welkin turned to Severus, and they stared at each other in surprise. "But he’s only nine months old! How can he even do that?"

"Good genetics?" Snape asked. He looked at her with pride in his eyes. "He is obviously quite magically gifted. Our son will be a remarkable talent, and the pride of Slytherin House when he is Sorted," he asserted.

"We must have another child," Severus added, a smile curling his lips as Welkin stared back at him, her mouth fallen open in astonishment.

* * *

"I’m _not_ having another baby this soon. Get that ridiculous idea out of your head right now, Severus Snape!" Welkin insisted. It was the third time this afternoon that he had broached the idea to her.

"It is not ridiculous. You saw Sullivan’s precocious use of magic. We are capable of producing superior progeny, and it is our duty as citizens to do so," Snape told her.

"Bullshit! Superior progeny, my ass! Since when did you start caring about that silly campaign the Ministry of Magic put in place to encourage breeding among magicals?"

Agitated by his insistence, Welkin selected an apple from the fruit bowl on the table by the couch, and bit into it with a bit more force than was necessary.

"Their methods are a bit unusual," Snape admitted, "but their inducements are quite compelling. The sum they are offering as a stipend, and the promise of property as well; those are not to be discounted so easily, Welkin."

"I’m not a broodmare, and I have no intention of leasing myself out to them as one. You go hire yourself out to stud for them if you want their fucking inducements so bad. I’m sure they can find _somebody_ to pair you up with."

"It is obviously the combination of our bloodlines which has produced such a prodigy as Sullivan. I do not believe that I would be as effective as a progenitor paired with anyone else but you."

Welkin looked at him with disgust. "Is that supposed to flatter me?" 

"Nor would I ever _wish_ to be paired with anyone else," Snape added hastily, as Welkin continued to glare at him.

"You’d better not, if you know what’s good for you," Welkin threatened. "Unless you’d like to lose those family jewels you’re so proud of."

"You remember that I mentioned my wish for another child even before Sullivan displayed his skills, and with no thought of the Ministry’s most generous offerings to new parents," Snape reminded her. "You promised me that we could discuss it once classes had ended. Is that not true?" he asked.

That was true. Severus had brought it up well before they came to Spinner’s End for the summer break.

"Yes, but I’m right in the middle of my training, Severus. If I get pregnant, I’ll have to put it on hold again. Let’s just wait a few more years. I promise you, if you really want another baby then, I’ll not oppose it."

"That is your best compromise?" Snape asked, trying to press his advantage with her.

"Yes. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it." 

"I shall take it then." 

From the way he looked at her, Welkin knew that he had set a mental timer, and would most certainly be reminding her of her promise, probably two years to the very minute of this conversation.

"Why do you even want another baby?" Welkin asked curiously. "The next one might not be as great as Sully is, you know. It could be a dunderhead."

"No child of ours could ever be a dunderhead, my love," Snape said. "I wish another child - a witch, if we are so fortunate - who will be blessed with her mother’s beauty, agile mind, sharp wit, and divers other charms. Is that not reason enough?"

Welkin blushed at his effusive compliments, and the intense way he was looking at her. Sometimes Severus Snape was a regular silver-tongued devil, he was. No wonder she found it so hard to refuse him almost anything that he asked of her.

* * *


	47. Bound and Determined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus, who is used to being dominant, is less than cooperative as Welkin tries her hand at a little B&D.

* * *

"I don’t think you’re being very cooperative, Severus," Welkin said calmly, shaking her head from side to side at him with disapproval. She walked around him slowly, from the right side of the bed to the left side, and smiled down at him sweetly, despite the fact that he was scowling fiercely at her the entire time.

" _Maxima omnium virtutum est patientia_ \- Patience is the greatest of all virtues - the ancients said," she informed him. Welkin pressed the riding crop she held in one black leather gloved hand into the center of his chest for emphasis.

"Loosen these bonds immediately, Welkin. I have no intention of continuing to allow you to sexually torment me for another minute, much less another full hour," he replied haughtily.

Snape thought that Welkin was being rather hypocritical about advising him to have patience, since he knew for a fact through much experience with her, that Welkin had very little patience at her disposal to wait for anything under almost any circumstance.

"Ah, ah, ah…" She tapped his chest with the riding crop again, each time she admonished him. "Now, don’t you dare," she warned. "You know you promised me that you wouldn’t use magic to free yourself for two full hours. It’s been less than an hour. Are you a man of your word or aren’t you, Severus Snape?" Welkin challenged. "Do you want to please Mistress Welkin or not?" she asked, propping one slender black-booted foot up on the bed next to him.

Welkin slowly leaned over him, her ample breasts straining to escape her sleeveless red latex top, which was unzipped down to her navel. Her short black leather skirt was also open down the front, but secured by a series of six buckled thin leather straps. Snape thought he saw a quick flash of her pussy through the exposed gaps as she moved.

Snape stared hungrily at Welkin’s exposed inner thigh, so enticingly close to him, and pictured in his mind letting his hands travel up that pale pathway to the soft fur of her pussy. He inadvertently groaned with desire, and jerked sharply against the strong silken ropes which secured his wrists and ankles to the four bedposts of their bed.

Welkin had fastened him quite tightly, and without recourse to magic, he knew he had no hope of releasing himself until she chose to let him go.

"Good things may eventually come to those who learn to wait," Welkin told him. "You _do_ want those good things to…" Welkin let the pause stretch out for long seconds before completing the thought. "…come…don’t you?" she asked him in a low, sexy whisper. She stuck out her pink tongue, and slowly licked her upper lip as he watched, leaving it glistening with her saliva.

The only time that Welkin had physically touched him in the past forty minutes was in the very beginning, after first securing his bonds, and extracting the promise from him not to use magic, by distracting him with her kisses until he would have said yes to practically anything she asked of him.

His helplessness assured, Welkin had silently cut away his trousers and undergarment, despite his protests at the act of wanton wastefulness.

"How many of my nightgowns and undergarments have you ruined trying to get at me since we met? Apparently, it’s only destruction when _your_ clothes are involved," she told him sarcastically when she was finished.

She had then slowly unbuttoned his jacket and shirt, artfully arranging them open to expose his thin, muscular torso, before briefly licking at and circling his nipples with her wet tongue, like a cat lapping delicately at a bowl of milk.

For the next thirty minutes, she had touched him only with words and innuendo, except for the occasional rapping and tapping with the riding crop. As lovely and desirable as she looked to him in the revealing outfit, and as much as her words stirred him with lust for her, this was much too frustrating without physical contact.

"I bet you want me to suck your cock about right now, don’t you?" Welkin suggested bluntly, watching his face as he continued to struggle futilely against the ropes. She trailed the riding crop along the length of his swollen erection, down to the throbbing purple knob at the tip.

Severus trembled in anticipation. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "I want your mouth on my cock." Finally! She was going to stop her incessant talking and do something to him!

Welkin looked at him sternly. "Then, what do we say?" 

"Mistress Welkin, please suck my cock," Snape requested, obediently addressing her in the manner in which she had instructed him to. His voice came out in a harsh whisper, sounding quite strained. Ye gods! He thought - please let her stop this ridiculous posturing, and put her mouth on my cock now - or anywhere at all, for that matter! Snape felt as if his balls might burst if Welkin didn’t touch him again soon.

"Much better. That’s much more polite." 

Welkin sounded pleased, and favored him with a smile. 

"Poor widdle Sevvy. Does him want him nasty widdle 'Nake' in Mistress Welkin’s mouth? Is widdle Sevvy all horny?" she asked, teasing him with baby talk.

"My cock is not wid…little, Welkin. You are well aware of that." Severus seethed quietly, insulted at her description, however it was meant.

"Don’t interrupt me, Severus," Welkin told him sternly. 

"My cock is quite impressive in both length and girth. You have said so _many_ times yourself," Snape pointed out.

"Hey! Who’s in charge here? It’s _widdle_ if I _say_ it’s widdle. Mistress Welkin has spoken - end of discussion."

"My cock is so large that some of the hired women were reluctant to accommodate me under certain circumstances in the past."

"Whatever." Welkin sighed. 

"Do not roll your eyes at me, Welkin. My cock is…" 

"Okay! Okay! It’s mammoth! It’s huge! It’s your pride and joy, and I should genuflect in its presence! I get the picture! Don’t get all huffy about it. It’s just role-play, Sevvy! Shut up about it or, you’re _never_ going to get any pussy!" Welkin broke character as Snape continued to crap on about his precious prick.

"I don’t think that I _will_ suck that incredibly BIG nasty snake of a cock of yours," she continued. "I’m not your cocksucking little bitch at your beck and call, Professor Snape. You’re _my_ bitch now, and I think I want my bitch to eat my pussy."

She suddenly climbed onto the bed, and stood straddling him, her legs spread directly over his head. She hiked up her short skirt, which barely had covered her ass as it was, until Snape could clearly see what he had earlier only suspected. Welkin wasn’t wearing knickers.

Welkin crouched down into a squat, hovering just beyond his reach, the pouty lips of her pussy glistening with her arousal. She inserted the tip of one leather gloved forefinger inside herself, and let it sink slowly inside up to the hilt, as he watched in excited agony.

"Would you like to stick your tongue into my sweet little pussy, Severus? I bet you would. Can you smell it with that big, beautiful nose of yours? Let me see those nostrils flare. Sniff it out. You should know my scent well enough by now. Does it make your cock twitch? I know that it does. I’ve seen it. I know your cock wants me…do you?"

Snape jerked frantically at his bonds again, and strained his head and neck upward, seeking just one sweet taste of that slippery nectar from his Welkin’s juicy peach of a quim.

"I want you! Welkin, please! Lower yourself immediately, or I shall not be responsible for my actions!"

Welkin withdrew her finger, and shoved it into his mouth. He sucked at it greedily, like a baby at the teat, reveling in the sweet taste of her.

She heard his cock slap against his stomach as it rose even higher, and she hastily withdrew her finger from his mouth.

"Oh, no you don’t," she cautioned him again. "Mistress Welkin doesn’t want you coming too soon. No more little tastes for you. It excites you far too much."

"Welkin!" Snape bellowed as she rose, and quickly dismounted from the bed again. "Come back here! Untie these ropes, and allow me to pleasure you!" he demanded.

Welkin merely smiled at him, pulled her skirt down demurely, and turned away and walked to the window. She stood there gazing out of it, seemingly distracted by the busy comings and goings this afternoon of their Muggle neighbors.

"It must be 3 p.m. There goes Mr. Buchanan to the green grocers. Right on time, as usual," she observed conversationally, as Severus ranted at her in the background.

"Do not ignore me! Come back here! Untie me, I said!" Snape ordered. 

He might as well have been speaking in a foreign language - one that Welkin was determined not to understand.

This must be what Crucio is like, Snape thought dourly. He felt as if his genitals were literally on fire, and Welkin, who had done this to him, was cruelly refusing to release him, or do anything to douse the flames of his desire for her. Instead, she kept fanning the fire to make the flames burn higher. He had passed his breaking point with this unnatural sexual charade of hers. Nothing good could ever come of letting any woman be in total command of such things; but most particularly Welkin. She simply did not seem to understand the consequences of her prolonged and relentless amatory teasing of him.

"ENOUGH!" Snape bellowed. "Damn my promise to hell!" he roared, shouting the words to break his bonds in the next breath.

Snape sprang from the bed like a hungry panther and ran at her, his open shirt and jacket flapping, and his painfully swollen balls and prick bouncing. Welkin tried to dodge him, but he was on her almost before she could blink.

He threw her roughly to the floor, forced her skirt up, and shoved himself into her in one rushed sequence of movements.

"Severus! You promised!" Welkin yelled, even though she knew that it wouldn’t do any good to remind him of that at this point. His eyes were much too glazed over with lust when he rammed himself into her.

Snape did vaguely hear Welkin shout, but he ignored it, focusing instead on driving his cock as deeply into her as he could get it. If it would make him come any quicker, and if he could have managed it, he would have shoved his balls up her twat as well.

Severus was fucking her so hard that Welkin began to fear that the floorboards might actually give way, and that they would plunge through them into the sitting room below them. _Spinner’s End Couple Plunges to Dismal Dizzying Death in Fatal Fucking Frenzy,_ the headline in the _Daily Prophet_ would say, she thought, imagining the shocked faces of everyone at Hogwarts when they read the tragic news.

Welkin wrapped her arms around Snape, but couldn’t manage to even fuck back; he was pounding into her so rapidly. Every time she tried to move, he pinned her to the floor again, so she just grasped his butt cheeks, and let herself enjoy feeling the rhythm of his muscles tensing and relaxing with each forceful thrust.

Her butt and back were definitely going to be bruised. She didn’t even want to think about how sore her poor pussy was going to feel. But man, this was starting to feel really, _really_ good. Severus hadn’t fucked her this violently since he’d discovered that he wasn’t really impotent after all. The first night after they had rescued Sully from Huldra Helliwell, and they discovered that her spell on Welkin had worn off, he was able to penetrate her again. Severus had battered her so many times that she had trouble getting out of bed the next morning until he gave her a pain potion.

Snape broke into her thoughts with his deep, masculine groan, followed by a louder, strangled cry as he reached an explosive orgasm, and collapsed on top of her.

Oh, well. She couldn’t _always_ be first to come, she thought. Apparently, this time she wasn’t even to be included in his orgasm at all, except as its instigator.

"Sevvy? Are you okay?" Welkin couldn’t see his face, and he was lying so still on top of her that she started to get concerned.

"I am feeling quite a bit more like myself," Severus responded at last, pushing himself off her, and reverting to a more gentlemanly demeanor. He stood up, let his jacket and shirt drop to the floor, and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Did I injure you, my love?" he asked, leading her back to the bed with an arm around her shoulders, in his typically courtly way of treating her after his often violent assaults on her body.

Welkin loved the fact that Severus was capable of such ferociously animal sexual coupling, as well as such touching tenderness to her once the deed was done. They were probably the only couple she knew where it was necessary to ask that question _‘did I injure you?’_ somewhat routinely after making love. Welkin was actually quite proud of that fact, even though she could not share it with anyone else. It proved to her that the flames of their love, and their lust for each other, had not diminished by even one spark since they were first married. If anything, their desire for each other had increased steadily over time.

Snape stood her in front of him at the bedside and unzipped her top the rest of the way, carefully helping her out of it. He really _was_ always so sweet and solicitous to her after they did it, Welkin thought again to herself. She loved basking in the aftermath of sex as much as their actual fucking.

Their lovemaking sessions often followed a similar pattern, like the prize fights her father used to enjoy watching on TV on Friday nights when she was little. There was the sparring and jousting with each other as they circled, testing for weakness, the contest of the main event in center ring, and the glowing aftermath of completion. Unlike in the prize fights, no matter who took the round or the match in their competitions, they were both still winners.

Welkin truly felt sorry for anyone who didn’t have what she had found with her Sevvy. He was perfect in his imperfections, and she loved him.

"Never mind whether you injured me - you broke your promise to me," Welkin repeated, now that he was paying attention to her words once again. She ran her hand through his hair fondly, a gesture at odds with her sharp words to him.

Snape unzipped the back of her skirt and let it drop to the floor, lifting her up and seating her on the bed like a child, as he knelt to remove her boots for her.

"I promised to allow you to bind and sexually dominate me," Snape said. "What you were doing was not domination, and it was becoming much too uncomfortable. I was within my rights to call a halt to it."

"It _was too_ domination!" Welkin insisted. "What would you call it but being dominated, if I’ve got you tied up and completely at my mercy?"

Snape peeled off each glove for her, and laid them carefully on the nightstand, at last able to regard her in all of her glorious nakedness.

"I would call it cock teasing, I should think," Snape told her. "Quite talented and masterful cock teasing, but hardly domination," he said. "I do not even think you capable of sexual domination, though you can most assuredly be quite dominant and aggressive in many other areas of life, when your ire is aroused."

"What do you mean, I’m not capable of it?" Welkin felt highly insulted that, after all her hard work in securing her costume, and considering her moves, he obviously thought she hadn’t been good at it.

"You were but playing the part, like an actress in a play," Snape critiqued. "The true sexual dominant, such as I, revels in the giving of pleasure as much as the sexual torment. You focused so much on the teasing and torment aspect of our encounter that the giving of pleasure was almost completely neglected."

"But, you wanted me!" Welkin insisted stubbornly. "I _made_ you want me, didn’t I?"

"I _always_ want you, my pet," Snape said patiently. "That does not prove anything. Why are you angry at my truthful analysis?"

"Because you’re saying that I stink at it! Why the hell wouldn’t I be angry? Anyway, you’re crazy. I thought I did very well for my first time. I thought it would be something a little different. Something we hadn't done yet. I told you I’d never done this before, didn't I ?" Welkin reminded him.

Yes, she had, Snape thought. Her admission to him that no other man had ever received such attentions from her before had been irresistible to him. Snape wanted to be the only man who could claim such privileges from her. In fact, if he could have Obliviated all memory of former lovers from her mind, he would have done so long ago. He had no intention of sharing his Welkin with any other man, in the past, present or future.

"If it was so awful for you, why did you let me make such a fool of myself…letting me go on and on like that?"

"I thought that you did not care what others thought of you?" he reminded her. 

"I don’t - but I _do_ care what _you_ think about me," Welkin admitted sullenly. 

"I am gratified that you do," Severus said, favoring her with a bigger smile than his usual meager ones. "It was quite stimulating, Wells. I am just saying that it was stimulation that was perhaps a bit too prolonged. I had too great a desire for you, my love, to let it continue." That was very smooth, he congratulated himself.

The fact that his opinion had earned a place in her regard meant to him that she was slowly relinquishing small pieces of her independence to him. Her independence was not something which Welkin gave to another person easily or lightly without deep consideration and commitment. As far as Snape knew, he was the only person who had ever earned such an honor from her.

"I guess I was not as good at it as I thought I was," Welkin said in a small voice, sounding subdued.

"It was an admirable effort," Snape offered, as he continued to belatedly attempt to placate her, and bolster her opinion of herself again before things got out of hand, and she did something unnerving to him, like burst into tears. Other people’s tears had no effect on him, but Welkin’s tears always disturbed him deeply. The downside to her seeking his good opinion of her was that her expression of her emotions, which had always been quite open with him to begin with, now included tears more often than it used to, when she felt that she had upset him in some major way, or when she was worried about his welfare.

"I’ll do better next time," Welkin promised. 

Snape sighed. "Welkin, have you not been listening to me? It is not in your nature to be the dominant sexual partner. You respond quite naturally and ebulliently when I am dominant. You are quite compliant with anything which I suggest to you, and do to you. It is a sexual quality which I treasure greatly about you. You have no need to attempt to be otherwise, my pet. The role reversal was an interesting, if somewhat painful and uncomfortable, novelty for me."

"But, I can do it better…I _know_ I can," she insisted. To his dismay, she was, indeed, almost on the verge of tears.

"Just show me how, and I’ll do it better for you," she promised. 

"Wells, there is really no need," he began, but stopped as he regarded her facial expression. She looked so forlorn and upset, and seemed to think that she had displeased him or failed him in some way, when nothing could be further from the truth. He had been extremely angry at her refusal to release him when things did not progress to his satisfaction, that much was true; but his Welkin could never truly displease or fail him in any way.

"Very well," he relented. "I shall teach you, my pet." 

"Now?" she asked eagerly. 

"No. On another occasion, soon," he promised. 

He sank down on the bed, pulling her with him. "Will you lie with me now until Sullivan awakens from his nap? I desire your company, my wife."

"I’d love to, Severus." She finally smiled at him again, stroking his cheek, and thinking how fortunate they both were to be with each other, despite the horrible events that the month of June had brought to them.

"Do you know how lucky we both are that Albus is such a busybody and brought us together? We are two very odd people," she observed to him. "Not to mention disgustingly sappy about each other a great deal of the time. People hate that, you know." She grimaced as if in disgust at the sentimental horror of it all.

"Indeed, I am well aware of it, Wells. Were it not for Albus, neither of us might ever have found a suitable partner. We are both quite disgusting in many ways. No one else would ever be inclined to put up with either one of us for very long. I am also certain that Sullivan will be quite heartily ashamed of us, and denounce us both completely when he is old enough to be so discriminating as to recognize our many defects," he agreed.

"Well, you certainly have given _that_ a lot of thought. I'm surprised that two such imperfect people managed to produce such a perfect child." Welkin grinned at his elaborate statement, and his serious expression as he said it.

"I love you, my brilliantly pompous asshole of a husband," she told him. 

"As do I love you, my charming little dunderhead." 

"Widdle," Welkin corrected. 

"What?" 

"It’s charming ‘widdle’ dunderhead," Welkin repeated. 

Which reminded Snape… "Why is it that you had no trouble at all calling my nose big and obtrusive, but balked at indicating the true magnificence of my cock?"

"I said _beautiful_ big nose, Sevvy. I never called it obtrusive," she denied. "You’re not going to crap on and on about that cock of yours all afternoon, are you? If you are, I might as well go wake Sully from his nap right now," Welkin threatened.

"Ours," he corrected. 

"What?" 

"It is that cock of ‘ours’, my sweet," Snape parroted her. "I have granted you partial property rights." He arched an eyebrow, and looked out of the corner of his eyes at her, to gauge her response to his attempt at humour.

Welkin giggled. "Well then, I’m putting my half on a dirty website on the internet, and charging for views of it. I’ll call it _Sevvysmonstercock dot com_. I’ll have so many hits and visits and backlinks that I’ll be famous."

Snape looked puzzled. "Why would people pay to view my endowment on the Muggle wireless devices?"

"They’re called computers, Sevvy. I guess I haven’t shown you the internet yet. We’ll have to get our house set up for it. I’ll see about that tomorrow."

"We have no need of this…Muggle in-tra-netting device," he told her. "We have magic."

"Oh, but this is kind of like magic. Really it is. Don’t worry, it doesn’t cost that much. I can’t wait to show it to you!" Welkin wriggled against him with excitement.

Snape looked dubious. 

"Please, please, please…can’t we please get the internet here? I want to teach you something too," Welkin said.

How could he refuse her when she looked at him like that with her huge, pleading green eyes?

"Very well. We shall arrange for it tomorrow, if you wish." 

"Thank you, sweetness," Welkin said, and suddenly thought of Arthur and Molly Weasley. "Arthur Weasley is just going to be Slytherin green with envy. I can’t wait to show him!"

"Welkin, I will not have this house overrun with Weasleys, despite their kindness to us in the past. There are just too many of them, pureblood or not."

"Just Arthur and Molly," she promised. "We can have them over for supper one evening. You know how much Arthur loves Muggle devices."

"As much as Molly Weasley obviously loves babies," Snape observed wryly. "I suppose that she would enjoy seeing how talented Sullivan is."

"That’s right," Welkin agreed. "It’ll be a great opportunity to show off Sully, and brag to them about that superior genetic material you’ve got in your pants, like you’re always doing to me these days."

"I do not boast of such things. It would be unseemly to discuss it with anyone but you," Snape denied.

"Then stop nagging me about it too. I told you I’m not ready for another baby yet."

"I do not nag. I admit that I do occasionally remind you that my interest in producing more progeny with you remains active, but I am merely checking to determine whether you might have revised your scheduling relating to the future. I am most certainly _not_ nagging you."

"You bring it up every time that Sully exhibits some new talent, which is about every other day at this rate. Sully doesn’t need a little brother or sister. He’s doing just fine as an only child."

"Sister," Snape replied. "Our next child will be a witch, and I shall name her myself," Snape asserted, his plans already obviously in place.

"Really? When did you start your own psychic hotline? Should Trelawney be worried that you’re about to take her job?" Welkin sneered.

"I do not think so, since Albus has informed me that I shall at long last be Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor when the new term at Hogwarts begins," Snape said. "My old professor, Horace Slughorn, will be resuming his position as Potions Master in my stead."

"What? You got the DADA job? Why didn’t you tell me?" Welkin leapt at him excitedly. "We have to celebrate! I know how much you wanted it."

Snape smiled with pleasure at her response. 

"You’re going to be so good at it, sweetie! Those kids are so lucky! They’re really going to be surprised and excited when they walk in and see you up on that dueling catwalk, instead of another one of those ineffective assholes. None of them knew the first thing about the Dark Arts. The kids can learn so much from you. Just like I have."

Welkin was obviously still totally deluded about his nearly utter lack of popularity with the students at Hogwarts, Snape thought. It was just as well that she refused to see the truth about how hated and feared he was. He did not wish her regard and respect for him to be tarnished by it. Her opinion, and those of perhaps a few others at Hogwarts, were the only ones that mattered to him.

"Yeeesss…" Snape drawled with pleasure, picturing the dismay of Harry Potter and his snotty little Gryffindor friends. They were always complaining that he favored Slytherin students in his Potions class. Let’s see how they did in DADA with him at the helm. There would be no whiners in his class; and if there were, there was always the option of liberally removing House points, or applying detentions to anyone who did dare to complain, or who failed to meet his exacting expectations.

"It will be a most rewarding teaching experience for me," Snape agreed a little ominously.

Welkin somehow got the feeling that Severus was referring to a little more than merely his pleasure and proficiency at imparting knowledge to young magical minds.

* * *


	48. Severus Snape vs. the Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus resists Welkin's attempt to teach him the wondrous uses of the Muggle Internet. Molly and Arthur Weasley are invited to supper at their home at Spinner's End.

* * *

Welkin’s fingers flew across the keyboard of her computer as Snape watched in silence. "There," she announced when she was finished. "Now we each have our own email address."

"I do not wish to be called _‘sourcat’_ he complained, staring at the less than flattering nickname that Welkin had selected for his personal email account.

"We can change that, Severus. I just thought it would be a cute email name for you when you send messages. We can change it to _ssnape_ if you like, or maybe _halfbloodprince_?"

"I do not send e-mailings - I send _Owls_ ," Snape told her condescendingly. 

"Well, now you can do _both_ , sweetness" Welkin replied, a little less patiently than before.

"I have no need to do both. Who am I to send these Muggle wireless messages to?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Well…" Welkin considered, belatedly realizing that he might have a point. Who did he know that he could email?

"You can email my brother Glenn, and you can email me if you’re traveling," she finally decided.

"I rarely travel, and if I find that it is necessary to do so, I intend that you shall travel with me. Or I shall _Owl_ you if you cannot," he repeated, purposely ignoring her suggestion that he could email her brother.

"Okay, forget the email then. We’ll move on to something else. Tell me something that you’d like to know more about? Anything at all," Welkin urged.

Severus thought for a bit. "The Dark Arts," he requested. 

Welkin typed in the requested subject, and hit search. Several selections came up, and she picked the first one.

Snape quickly scanned what was on the screen. 

"This information is quite incorrect," Snape sneered. "Only a Muggle dunderhead would think this anything but ridiculous."

Welkin felt her face flush, and she gritted her teeth with annoyance. 

"You are determined not to like this or find it the least bit useful, aren’t you?" Welkin accused.

"I am indifferent emotionally concerning your Muggle in-tra-netting. I find no purpose for this device, or the Muggle information which it accesses," Snape stated flatly.

Welkin glared at him, reluctant to admit defeat. Did he not realize that he was insulting her culture? She might have magical blood in her veins, but she was raised as a Muggle, and still felt akin to that world as well as to the Wizarding World now.

She tried to think of something that her other world could offer Severus via the internet that his world could not. The only thing from the Muggle world that he seemed interested in at all was her. She bet that if the only way that he could access her pussy was through the internet, that Severus would develop an interest in it pretty damn fast!

Hmmmm…an idea popped into her head. 

"How about entertainment value?" Welkin asked, her fingers tapping in some new words into the search engine. She hit search, and then selected one of her favorite websites from the list that came up on screen.

The bored, condescending look left Severus’s face as the pictures came up on the screen, and he leaned in for a closer look.

"I thought that this might get your attention," Welkin said. 

"These images are of Muggles engaged in…" Severus began. 

"Fucking," Welkin finished for him. "Pornography, baby! Good old-fashioned Muggle smut! I dare you to find anything to compare to it in the Wizarding World that isn’t from some dusty old illustrated manuscript. You’ve got your hetero, your gay and lesbian, your straight fucking, your rough sex, your oral, your anal, your masturbation, your gang bangs, your fetish stuff, your B&D, your S&M, your bestiality…anything and everything that your kinky little heart might desire," she grinned.

Snape seemed to have temporarily lost his penchant for sarcasm as he studiously perused the thumbnail images that filled the page.

"Still think that accessing the internet through a computer isn’t worth the money?" Welkin asked.

"This wireless device might be somewhat worthwhile," he acknowledged at last. 

Snape slowly raised a finger, and poked it at one of the images on the screen. "I should like to pleasure you like this," he asserted.

"If you pleasured me like that, all the blood would rush to my head at the very least, and you might possibly break my neck, at the very worst," Welkin grinned again.

"I will hold you securely. You will be in no such danger. How do I access more of these instructive pages?" Snape asked.

The victorious smile faded from Welkin’s lips as she began to realize that this particular example of the uses of the internet might not have been such a good idea to show to Severus after all.

Severus’s enthusiasm for fucking her was already a little out of control at times. Did she really want him researching new ways to do it on the internet, and inflaming his passions even more in the process? She was barely getting enough sleep as it was.

"Calm down, Sevvy. You’re getting a little overheated. I’ll show you later," Welkin said, hastily clicking off the internet connection.

Snape looked puzzled at her sudden change of heart, but decided to return to one of their earlier subjects.

"As to these electronic Owls, who will you be sending them to?" Snape asked. 

"I’ll be emailing my friends and relatives, of course. They must think I died or something. I haven’t been in contact with anyone but Glenn and Marie ever since I got here."

"I happened to observe that two of those names you put into the device did not belong to females," Snape said.

"So?" Welkin said. She would have bet Galleons on what was coming next. 

"Are these men who you have engaged in past intimacies with, Welkin?" he asked her, scowling.

Bingo! The green-eyed Basilisk strikes again, she thought. Severus seemed to think that every male alive who was over the age of puberty, or who didn’t have one foot in the grave, wanted to fuck her and/or steal her away from him. She was never able to convince him otherwise for very long.

"Of course not. They’re just friends of mine, not former lovers. We’ve never thought about each other like that."

"I was just _friends_ with Lily, yet I desired much more," Snape pointed out. "I do not wish you sending electronic Owls to other men, who it is very apparent to me would most certainly desire to bed you, and attempt to do so at the first opportunity," he concluded succinctly. At least, it was succinct compared to his other rants about the subject in the past.

"I’m not giving up my friends just because you’re insecure," Welkin told him. "Really, Sevvy, how many times do I have to tell you – I don’t _want_ anybody else but you. Anyway, one of them is gay. I doubt that me sending him emails about my exciting domestic life at Spinner’s End is going to turn him into a raging heterosexual anytime soon," she added sarcastically.

"You may Owl that one then, but without details of our life together at either Spinner’s End or Hogwarts," Snape said. "The other one you must most assuredly discard."

"What am I supposed to write about if I can’t discuss details of my life?" Welkin asked, with obvious frustration.

"That is of no concern to me. I am not of an intruding nature in your personal matters. You cannot risk exposure of our world to Muggles, however. You are my wife, and a member of the magical community now. You are not to discuss the details of your current existence."

"You’re as full of shit as a Christmas turkey! Not intrusive, my ass! You’ve been just _itching_ to get your hands and jealous, prying Wizard eyes on my journals ever since I first started writing in them; and I can’t even so much as exchange two words with another man without you suddenly popping up out of nowhere, acting like you just caught him trying to work his way into my panties! It’s embarrassing!"

"It is my right as your husband. I am the only man who is allowed in your knickers, Welkin!" Snape finally raised his voice.

Welkin really didn’t want to start an argumentative brawl with him about this. It was too early in the day for it. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and took another approach.

"Yes, Severus, my love. Which pair do you want? Personally, I think you’d look adorable in the pink ones with the little purple dragons on them."

Snape stared at her, his scowl slowly disappearing. 

"I prefer the green silken pair," he said at last. "But I am afraid that they would not contain my…natural enthusiasm for you."

"Sevvysmonstercock dot com," Welkin said, and burst out laughing. What were they arguing about again? Was it something silly or something important? Did she even care?

Severus kissed her, knocking the computer mouse to the floor in the process, where it lay unheeded by either of them.

* * *

Arthur Weasley had adjourned with Snape to the sitting room after supper, where Welkin heard Severus pontificating to their guest somewhat more enthusiastically than she had expected him to, demonstrating his newly acquired skill at accessing the internet through her computer.

"These Muggles! What will they think of next?" Weasley exclaimed. "Really damn clever of them, wouldn’t you say?" he asked Snape.

"I suppose if one does not have the capacity for Owling messages, that it might suffice as an alternate method of communication," Welkin heard Snape agree, much to her surprise. He had seemed so disdainful of it when she was trying to show it to him. Now he was acting as if he had invented the internet all on his own. It was actually sort of funny to listen to.

In the kitchen, Welkin sat at the table with Molly, who had volunteered to do the supper dishes. As Welkin discovered, that entailed merely directing her wand towards the sink several times, setting in motion the magical scrubbing, rinsing and drying of their supper dishes, as Molly poured them each some wine from the bottle she and Arthur had arrived with.

Welkin sipped her wine with one hand, attempting to keep Sully from struggling loose from her grasp, and crawling across the tabletop towards the wine bottle, which he seemed determined to claim as his own.

Sullivan strained mightily towards the bottle, reaching out. The bottle started to move towards him, sliding across the table as he laughed happily.

"Oh, Welkin, you didn’t tell me the baby was beginning to exhibit magical skills!" Molly said with delight.

"Yes, he’s gone crazy with it all of a sudden," Welkin said. "I have to watch him every second when he’s awake, or he’d have his little hands into everything. Sully, no! Don’t do that! You know you’re only supposed to touch your own things like that. That’s for the adults, sweetie. You’re too young for wine. Here’s your nice pumpkin juice."

Welkin handed Sully his bottle of pumpkin juice, which she had hand-strained of pulp for him. He tilted his head, stared at her solemnly and knit his brow in a frown, but finally upended the bottle and stuck the nipple in his mouth, sucking at the disgusting looking drink. Welkin thought it was disgusting, at least; the kids at Hogwarts seemed to love it, and so did Sully, but Welkin didn’t think she would ever be able to acquire a taste for the vile looking stuff.

"He looks just like Severus when he frowns like that," Molly observed. "And already exhibiting magical skills! How wonderful!"

"Yeah, he’s got a lot more of his father’s temperament than I thought at first," Welkin said. "He’s a little bit stubborn," she admitted, rearranging the long, dark strands of wild hair on his head as he sucked at his bottle, his dark little eyes darting back and forth between Molly’s smiling face, and the wine bottle which his mother didn’t want him to touch.

"Perhaps the next baby will be a little easier," Molly said sympathetically. 

"That won’t be for a long time yet," Welkin said quickly. 

"Oh? Arthur said that Severus seemed to think otherwise." 

"He did?" Welkin looked annoyed. "Well, Severus isn’t always correct in his assumptions."

What was he doing discussing that with Arthur Weasley? Welkin wondered. It peeved her that Severus insisted that she not discuss any aspects of their private life with other people, and yet he seemed to be running off at the mouth to Arthur now about such an intimate matter.

"Of course not. Don’t you let him pressure you or intimidate you into doing anything you don’t want to do," Molly advised her. "Don’t you be afraid to stand up to him."

"Afraid? Why would I be afraid of Severus?" Welkin looked at her, genuinely puzzled.

"Oh, no reason of course," Molly revised hastily. "It’s just that Severus has a reputation for being a bit…forbidding." Scary was what she really meant, but she was not about to admit that to Welkin.

"Why is that?" Welkin asked. "I know he used to be a Death Eater, but he’s not really like that at all. I don’t believe that he ever was. When are people ever going to forget what he used to be? That was just a terrible mistake he made when he was very young," she said. "He shouldn’t have to pay for it for the rest of his life. It’s not fair."

Molly could see how upset Welkin was getting, and felt badly for her. She wanted to believe that Welkin was correct in her assessment of Severus Snape, but Molly was not yet ready to blithely discard nearly fifteen years of negative assumptions about the man.

"I know he’s a bit strict as a teacher, but he would never really hurt any of the students," Welkin continued. "Why are so many of the kids so scared of him?" she asked Molly, lowering her voice slightly, so that Severus wouldn’t hear her.

Severus thought that she didn’t know how other people viewed him, but Welkin was very well aware of it; sometimes she was quite painfully aware of it. Her heart ached for him every time she heard a disparaging or unkind remark about him. Unfortunately, hardly a week seemed to go by when she didn’t hear at least one.

"You have to admit that he can be a little intimidating, and even perhaps the tiniest bit unkind to his students at times," Molly said, lowering her own voice as well. "Children are very sensitive to it. It’s not surprising that he would frighten them. He frightens a lot of adults as well. I hope you don’t take offense at me speaking so plainly."

"No, of course not," Welkin said. "But everybody’s all wrong about him. Severus is the kindest, sweetest, most thoughtful man when you get to know him. Really, he is," she insisted. "It’s so _unfair_ \- the things that people say about him." Welkin sounded downcast, as she considered the terrible things that people said about her Severus.

"Of course it is," Molly agreed. "I didn’t mean to upset you by speaking so plainly. I’m sure he is all of those wonderful things, if you say so." She reached across the table, clasped her hand over Welkin’s, and gave it a comforting little squeeze.

Molly really thought that Welkin had gone quite over the edge in describing Snape’s sterling qualities to her, but there was no need to upset the woman further by accusing her of purposely deluding herself about her husband, and gilding the lily egregiously by describing Severus Snape as _‘sweet’_. Perhaps he _was_ sweet, to Welkin, but Severus Snape was about as sweet as a den full of cobras to everyone else.

"Don’t get me wrong – Severus is no pushover," Welkin admitted. "He’s very demanding, but of himself as much as he is of others. He’s a formidable and very talented Wizard, and the bravest, most intelligent man I’ve ever known," Welkin said, not wanting to make her Severus sound like some kind of a creampuff.

"I honestly don’t know what I’d do if anything ever took him away from me," Welkin said. "Or Sully," she added.

Molly smiled at her. "You love him very much, don’t you? We bleed for our loved ones when we think they are being treated unfairly. That’s really the heart of it, isn’t it? And he loves you too – that much was plain to see at Christmas, when you were apart. You just let silly gossips like me wag their tongues. You know the truth of it in your heart."

Welkin smiled at her. Molly was right. It didn’t matter what anybody else had to say about her husband. Welkin knew the truth about him.

Sully reached up with one hand, and patted her on the cheek. "Ah – mah," he announced, and grinned, letting his empty bottle fall to the floor.

"What feminine plotting against your poor unsuspecting husbands are you two up to in here?" Arthur Weasley asked jocularly as he and Severus rejoined them.

"Severus! Sully just called me Mama! At last!" Welkin leapt up and joined him in the doorway with Sully.

"Of course, Welkin," Snape announced to her matter-of-factly. It would not do to be overly emotional about such things in front of the Weasleys. "You _are_ his mother, after all. What else would he call you? Our child is not a dunderhead."

* * *


	49. The Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus delivers Welkin's promised lesson in B&D, and she quickly considers becoming a B&D dropout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter introduces the original character Lilith.

* * *

Welkin was quiet, straining to hear a sound; hopefully the sound of Severus returning soon to begin her lesson. It had to have been at least an hour since he had turned her face away from him, and fastened the green silk sash about her head to cover her eyes, knotting it securely in back.

Where was she? Welkin knew that Severus had Apparated with her to somewhere, that much was certain. She had heard the sounds of feet shuffling about on the floor, and the low murmurs of a conversation, but nothing that she could make out distinctly. 

Her arms extended over her head, Welkin's wrists were cuffed to the wall, just high enough that she was obliged to balance on the balls of her bare feet. She felt a chill on her body, for he had divested her of all clothing before this began, except for a small black leather collar, which he had fastened around her neck. 

Somehow she knew that she should not call out for Severus. He probably would not be inclined to answer, in this scenario. He was obviously trying to keep her off-balance. It was working. She was getting pretty nervous, despite the fact that she had asked him for this, hadn't she? Her lesson in bondage and domination had begun, and she should cooperate as fully as she could. She was sure it would be a most informative and stimulating lesson. Severus was an excellent teacher, in her estimation, despite his reputation at Hogwarts among the students for unfairness, if not outright mental cruelty.

Still, she kept straining to hear any small sound, as the minutes slowly ticked by. Was patience part of the lesson? It wasn't exactly one of her strong points, she had to admit.

Had Severus really left, or was he still here as a silent observer of her discomfort? Just when she was certain that she must still be alone in the room, she felt the soft stroke of a hand down the side of one of her breasts, and then the touch of fingers flicking at her nipple. The gentle manipulations continued for some time, teasing her nipple erect, before moving on to the other breast. It was a bit odd that he was being so tender with her. Perhaps his own self-restraint was part of the lesson.

She felt the touch of his shoe against her legs, nudging them apart, and then, after a short pause, she felt something strike her between her spread legs.

The gentle stinging on her pussy continued, as she heard the swish of something brush-like, which continued to strike her on that most tender portion of her body. The stinging sensation centered on her pussy, but also was alternately directed at each of her breasts in turn, causing Welkin to moan softly and undulate a little in place as she responded. It definitely stung, and yet it was rather pleasurable as well.

She had no idea how long this went on, but by the time it stopped, she was more than ready for the next phase to begin. Her clit was throbbing and her nipples were stiff and tingling.

At last, she felt hands at the blindfold which obscured her vision, and the fabric was pulled away. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light, and looked up into the eyes of a stranger. 

"Expecting someone else?" a low female voice asked. 

"I...uh...yes," Welkin said softly, shocked to see the unnaturally raven-haired leather-clad Amazon who was standing before her. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar darkened chamber, until with relief, she saw Severus. He was seated on what looked like a gray marble throne, positioned against a side wall of the room, which was somewhat dramatically covered in deep red velvet draperies. Wall torches on either side of him helped dispel the gloom in the chamber. Snape was regarding her reaction to the Amazon with almost academic interest. He took a drink from a goblet he was holding as he watched Welkin watching him.

"What a sweet little poppet," the Amazon said to him, as she stroked the back of her hand across Welkin's nipple again. "No wonder we haven't seen you here in well over a year, Master Snape. It's a shame you didn't want the full treatment for her. I think I would have enjoyed that."

"I'm sure you would have, Lilith, but I reserve such pleasures with this one strictly to myself," Snape told her.

 _Lilith?_ Welkin thought. What an appropriately cliche name for something like this. The room was filled with all sorts of things that looked vaguely like medieval torture devices, but with the modernized gleam of newer metals. 

"Yes, of course, Master Snape," Lilith replied with practiced deference. "Still...it's a pity," she concluded, eyeing Welkin again. "She is _exquisitely_ responsive."

"Perhaps you would care to display her to me before you leave us?" Snape offered her with benign graciousness. "I shall give you at least that small reward for your admiration of my personal... property," he told her, his eyes flicking back to Welkin to observe her reaction to his use of the provocative word to describe her. If she was offended by it, her face did not betray it, he thought. Very good.

"Of course, entirely for your pleasure, Master," Lilith responded. 

Welkin thought she sounded a little too eager to please Severus, and that it might not be strictly entirely for his pleasure at all, judging by the way Lilith's dark eyes, heavily lined with gothy black eyeliner, were looking at her.

"It will be Milord, I think," Snape corrected. "She will address me as Milord." 

"Of course, Milord," Lilith said with a knowing look, as she was busy fastening a lead to the leather collar around Welkin's neck. She released Welkin from her manacles and took up the braided black leather leash. 

"On your knees, little poppet," Lilith instructed her. "Milord wishes you to go for a little walk, and display yourself for him." 

Welkin hesitated, reluctant to be led around on a leash like somebody's chattel. 

"Now," Lilith insisted more firmly. "Do not keep Milord waiting," she warned. The woman towered over her. Welkin estimated that she had to be at least six inches taller than Severus was, and Severus was a little over six feet tall. Better not argue with this one until she had a better feel of this scenario.

Welkin sank to her knees, but otherwise stayed upright.

"Hands and knees," Lilith instructed. 

"You've got to be kidding me." Welkin couldn't help protesting a little, her advice to herself swept aside. She thought better of it when she felt the sharp tug of the leash, urging her to silence and obedience. 

Welkin went to her hands and knees, her head down, as Lilith began to lead her across the floor towards Snape. She strolled her back and forth like a dog trainer would before a judge at a dog show, while Snape watched her crawl naked in front of him, and they freely discussed her buttocks and her swaying breasts. Occasionally, Lilith would give a sharp slap to Welkin's rump on alternating sides. At one point Snape left his seat to examine her between her legs, commenting crudely on how wet her quim was becoming. 

She couldn't help being stimulated, but it was humiliating to be treated like this in front of another woman, and Welkin immediately began to have second and third thoughts about requesting this lesson.

"That will be enough, I think," Snape said at last. "Take her to the table and secure her." 

Lilith got her to her feet, and did as she was ordered, but not before bidding her to thank Milord for the great privilege of parading herself in front of him, which Welkin did a little too curtly and insincerely, drawing a frown from Severus. He had expected Welkin to rebel, but not quite this soon in their session. 

Welkin protested again several times before she finally took her place lying on the hard, rough wooden table in the center of the floor.

When she had secured Welkin spread-eagled to the table, Lilith gave her a crooked smile. "She's a little mouthy," she remarked to Snape. "Would Milord like her gagged?"

"Yes. I think that would be best. She does tend to be a bit too verbose. She will not need to do more than moan...in the beginning," he agreed. 

Lilith retrieved a leather ball-gag from a drawer in the side of the table and forced it between her teeth, securing the straps tightly behind her head. Whatever renewed protests Welkin was making were effectively muffled.

"Have fun, little poppet," Lilith whispered next to her ear, stroking her breast one last time. Welkin watched her with a slight sense of relief as she left them alone, the heavy door clanging shut behind her ominously.

When she turned her head back towards Severus, he was looking at her with an odd little smile on his lips, his dark eyes gleaming at her strangely in the light from the torches on the wall, as she lay spread open to him, utterly defenseless against whatever he had planned. It was then that Welkin noticed the object he was holding in his hand.

In his hand he held a long grey cylinder with a large, knobby rounded tip, approximately as large as his own cock in diameter. He flipped a switch on the side and it began to pulsate and hum. Her stomach did a flip-flop of apprehension as he approached her with it. Lord, help her. Severus Snape was armed with a vibrator. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

Snape touched the Muggle vibrator device to her clit again and held it there, pressing it to her tenderness as Welkin's muffled squeals started up again through the gag. He had very much enjoyed taking her into the throes of orgasm, over and over again, and then suddenly stopping, as she squirmed and squealed under his persistent ministrations. 

At first it was frustration he sensed as he withdrew his attentions, but now, having elicited many orgasmic spasms from her, she was near exhaustion, for he had been at her for nearly an hour. He had only taken one break from using the device, long enough to sheath his cock inside her and take his own pleasure, the evidence of which had partially seeped from inside her naturally, or been forcibly expelled by her other orgasms as he returned to using the Muggle contraption. 

"Such a mess you're making, my pet," he purred to her with a smirk. 

Perhaps he could contrive a magical version of one of these devices, Snape thought. It might be very useful to prolong her stimulation in between their couplings when they returned to Hogwarts for the new term. It also might have definite marketing possibilities to adult witches, he thought, following a more practical line of consideration. As Arthur Weasley would have noted, these Muggles were certainly an ingenious lot.

Flipping off the switch, he moved to her side and leaned down next to her ear. "Would you like the gag removed now?" he asked softly. Welkin nodded at him enthusiastically, and tried to mumble something through the gag which was, under the circumstance, rather incoherent to him. 

"Please, Severus, I don't think I can come any more like this. Please stop. Let me up, please," she pleaded, after he removed the gag from between her pouty lips.

He grasped her face roughly with one hand and squeezed her cheeks. "Please, Milord," he instructed. "Say it properly, and I shall release you."

"Please, Milord!" she repeated hastily. 

When he had loosed her, she started to roll off the table but he pressed her back down firmly, holding her in place with his hand on her chest, like a lab specimen that was threatening to escape his grasp before the experiment was complete. "I do not believe that I have given you permission to rise," he told her imperiously.

"Please, Sev...I mean...please, Milord...may I get up?"

"As you wish, my pet." He nodded at her, as he removed his hand.

She sat up on the edge of the table, rubbing her wrists and ankles where the ropes had made marks on her skin as she had jerked against them during her orgasms. 

"Milord, can't we just go home now. I think you're right. I'll never be any good at this. Maybe this lesson wasn't a very good idea after all." 

"I do not allow drop-outs from my classes," Snape informed her curtly. 

"Please, Sev...Milord! Can't you just make this one little exception this one time? I just don't _like_ being tied down and gagged."

Snape sighed and shook his head at her. "I am most disappointed in your lack of cooperation and persistence. I have gone to considerable expense and preparation to provide this experience for you, Welkin, only because you said you wanted it, and asked - or rather, begged - me to. Now you wish to abandon it before we have used any of the other devices. I do not believe that you are giving these activities a proper trial or consideration in discounting them so quickly."

Quickly? If he spent as much time on her with the other devices in this room as he had with the vibrator, they'd still be here when the sun came up tomorrow! Not only that, but most of the things he expected to strap her into and use on her looked like torture devices out of an old Vincent Price movie. 

"I'm sorry, Severus...Milord. I can't help the way I feel. Except for the orgasms, it's just not my thing, I guess. It's not that much fun for me like this. Can't you just fuck me without having to truss me up like a turkey?" she pleaded. 

Severus sighed again. "Can we at least use the swing device before I take you home? That does not require that you be totally restrained. You merely have to be seated in it for the most part. I was saving it for the completion," he informed her, sounding disappointed that he would have to forego the rest of her lesson. 

"Of course, Milord." Welkin grinned at him, simultaneously looking as relieved as he did disappointed. "No more vibrators though, okay, sweetie? I'm feeling a little bit chafed. Anyway, I prefer your Real McCoy to a mechanical device."

Severus had been truly blessed by the Cock Fairy, Welkin thought fondly, grinning to herself, relaxing again now that the ordeal of his lesson was almost at an end. 

Snape lifted Welkin in his arms and carried her to the swing device, positioning her in the sling seat. He proceeded to expertly secure her legs to the sides, spread wide apart for easy access. 

Welkin kept nattering on to him about a variety of things as he positioned her, most of which had no bearing on the sex act they were preparing to complete.

Severus unzipped himself, whipped out his cock and unceremoniously pressed it into her, shutting her up by kissing her firmly. It was not a ball-gag, but it was very nearly as effective. Welkin stopped trying to talk and flung her arms around his neck enthusiastically as the momentum of his thrusts rocked her rhythmically back and forth in the swing. 

_Now, this is more like it_ , Welkin thought. Hopefully, Severus would eventually get over his disappointment at her being a B&D drop-out. It's not like it was going to affect her O.W.L. exams, after all.

* * *

"Are you really disappointed with me for not going through with it, Sevvy? I'm sorry I'm not any good at it and spoiled it for you," Welkin told him, as they lay in bed at home later that night.

"Of course not, my pet. You cannot be good at everything sexual."

"That's very philosophical of you, but, is it something that you're going to miss? I mean, I suppose if you felt like you needed it really badly, you could go back to...that place," she said hesitantly. "I wouldn't want you to feel all deprived and bitter, or anything. And I guess as long as it was strictly business and nothing personal..." Welkin was crossing her fingers that he wouldn't take her up on her generous and understanding offer. She probably would not be quite so understanding if he were to actually do so.

"That will not be necessary. I am quite pleased and well satisfied with our range of sexual activities, Wells. I do not require augmentation of them in any way," he assured her.

"Good!" Welkin sounded greatly relieved. "I didn't really want you to say yes. I didn't want to have to picture you with that Amazon Goth Lilith person. She's not _at all_ your type, you know," she sniffed.

Severus smiled to himself, pleased at the jealousy he detected in Welkin's voice, unfounded though it was. He had no plans and no desire to return there. He pulled her closer, to snuggle against him. "And what is my type, in your estimation?" he asked.

"Me, of course," Welkin said matter-of-factly, as if that settled the matter.

"You, of course, my little poppet," Snape agreed, stroking her hair contentedly. It did, indeed, settle the matter.

* * *


	50. The Perfect Patronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore is troubled when Snape conjures his Patronus and it's still a Silver Doe. Welkin thinks unkind thoughts about Lily Evans, and makes a symbolic gesture on behalf of Severus. Ron is jealous when Hermione receives gifts by Owl from an unknown admirer. Welkin berates Severus for speaking poorly of himself to her, and Albus for his poor treatment of Severus.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was concerned. Not about Voldemort, or Harry Potter, and not even about himself, although if Snape's estimations were correct, he had less than a year to live. 

Dumbledore was concerned because he had just seen Severus Snape's Patronus, and it had not been at all what he had expected to see. 

He had asked Severus if he had finally begun to develop feelings of fondness for Harry Potter, _The Boy Who Lived_ , who was at the crux of their plans to defeat Voldemort, and send the Dark Lord into an oblivion from which he would never again return. In agitated denial, Snape had cast his Patronus, and confirmed in one word, to Albus's shock, that his love for Lily Potter remained as his sole motivation in their endeavor. 

Alone again, Dumbledore had pondered with a troubled heart what this meant for Snape's wife, Welkin, the woman who he now viewed with such fond regard, almost like the granddaughter that he had never been destined to have. 

"Is your great show of purported love for Welkin all a sham? Does Lily still claim you, and still hold sway over your heart, even after all these years moldering in her grave?" Dumbledore mumbled aloud to himself, fretting over the implications of that blasted Patronus. Severus had acquitted himself quite admirably as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He had become masterful at concealing his true feelings. Was he doing that with Welkin now? To what purpose? 

Albus wished that he had the courage to ask Snape outright what it meant for his marriage, but he had not been able to do so before Severus fled from his presence. 

Perhaps it was because Albus suddenly felt so old and tired that he found it so difficult. He was dying a slow and painful death, and was truly demoralized at the thought that he might have set something into motion that would ultimately prove false, and not a blessing for the couple which he had so diligently and fervently promoted, and brought together as a good mating. 

Other than it being a debt he felt he owed to Severus, the establishment of their family would have been his own legacy. It would have been a smaller, but more significant personal victory than the battle he was currently engaged in. He would have been as proud of helping to create their happiness and their family as he would have been of his own part in defeating Voldemort. 

There was even a time when Albus might have been relieved at the sight of the Silver Doe Patronus which Severus had conjured, because it would have reassured him of Snape's continued commitment to the mission. It would have been all that he sought from him at the time. But over the years, Severus had come to mean more to him than just a pawn to be played in the deadly and desperate game they were engaged in. Now, it distressed him to think that his hopes of a new love and a new life for Severus with Welkin might prove to be false. When he thought of them together, he had been gladdened and comforted. Now it only saddened and worried him.

* * *

" _'I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, _even_ stopper death'_." Welkin repeated the words in a deep sonorous voice, imitating him as she quoted Severus's favorite line in his speech to first year Potions students. Welkin stoppered the fresh bottle of health powders she had just produced, and smiled with satisfaction. They really should come up with a better name for it besides 'health drink'. That was so bland. Maybe something with the word 'life' in it, since it was meant to be a life enhancement drink. She'd discuss that with Severus tonight, after she commiserated with him about having to endure another year teaching Harry Potter and his 'idiot friends'.

It certainly hadn't taken long for his pleasure at finally acquiring the Defense Against the Dark Arts post to melt away in the realization that it hadn't really changed anything for him. 

Welkin had initially been happy for Severus that he had finally gotten the job that he'd wanted for so long, but now she was annoyed at how disorganized that Professor Slughorn had let things get in the Potions Lab in such a short time since he'd resumed the post as Potions instructor at Hogwarts. There was something about the man that irked her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. 

At least he was gracious enough to allow her to continue to use the facilities for her projects. When Severus had told her that, she was grateful. It would have been very inconvenient for her if he hadn't consented to it. She should thank him herself, she supposed. 

Welkin hefted the jar of powders into her bag and left, on her way to Slughorn's spacious new office. That irked her too. Albus had never offered Severus an office nearly as nice as the one Slughorn had now appropriated, even after all his years of faithful service to him. 

Welkin knocked at the heavily carved and embellished wooden door to Slughorn's office. "Professor Slughorn? Professor?" Welkin thought she heard a noise and opened the door. She must have been mistaken. No one was here. Why was the door unlocked then? Severus would never have done such a foolish thing as leaving his door unlocked if he wasn't there. 

It was then that she spotted the human Weeble that was Horace Slughorn, asleep on the sumptuously upholstered couch in the corner. This Weeble didn't wobble when he walked, but Welkin had certainly seen him threaten to fall down at _The Three Broomsticks_ a couple of times when she and Severus were there. That was not, however, one of the things that irked her about him, since she and Severus both enjoyed their firewhisky quite a bit themselves. Was the preference for firewhisky over tamer drinks a Slytherin thing? Slytherins didn't seem to drink Butterbeer. 

Slughorn was fast asleep in the middle of the day, snoring, lying on the couch in his fastidious finery, and silk stockinged feet. His immaculately polished leather shoes were beneath the couch. An open bottle of expensive brandy and a half-empty snifter stood close at hand.

Welkin shrugged. She'd come back some other time to thank him. She didn't want to interrupt his nap. He was probably dreaming about some epicurean feast of epic proportions, judging by the gargantuan girth of the man. He was nearly as broad as he was tall. 

Or maybe he was dreaming about the 'lovely Lily Evans', since he seemed so overly fond of talking about her to Severus every chance that he got. Maybe that's really what irked her so much about Slughorn, Welkin thought. Severus didn't need to hear more of that crap. He'd lived with it every day of his life since Lily died. It was just another painful reminder of things he needed to try to forget, as far as she was concerned.

Severus had once told her that he thought she and Lily might have become friends if they had met. She hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, or spoil his illusion for no reason, particularly since they were visiting Lily's grave at the time, so she had kept her private thoughts on the matter to herself, and let it pass without comment. Contrary to popular opinion, Welkin did sometimes know when it was better to keep her mouth shut. It wouldn't have been appropriate at the time, and the subject just never came up again after that, thankfully. 

She thought about it again now, and she still had the same reaction. Welkin hadn't known the woman, in truth, but she doubted that she could ever have been her friend for long, just by virtue of the way she had treated Severus, discarding him as she had, whatever her excuses had been. Anyone who discounted Severus so easily could never be a real and trusted friend of Welkin's. It was as simple as that. She didn't need to rationalize it. Anyone who hurt Severus could never be her true friend.

Was she still a little jealous of Lily? She didn't think so. She had no reason to be. She was sure of Severus's love for her now. But unlike all of the negative things she constantly had to listen to about Severus, nobody ever seemed to say anything bad about Lily at all, and it annoyed the hell out of her. What was up with that? Nobody could have been _that_ perfect, or that noble, or that kind, like everyone seemed to make her out to be. Where was her kindness when she'd slammed the door to her common room in Severus's face and severed their friendship?

Welkin had seen her type in the Muggle world. Perfect grades, Miss Popularity, Head Cheerleader, Homecoming Queen, dating the captain of the football squad; marrying well and living her upwardly mobile life, with her two perfectly groomed, privately schooled children, living in the big house on the hill, while she pursued a social activist agenda to prove to herself that there was more to her than being the wife of a rich man. 

So she had died saving Harry. So what? Wouldn't any reasonably good mother do the same for her child? Welkin was not impressed. She would do the same for Sully, and that didn't make her a candidate for sainthood, so why should it make Lily Potter one? Welkin was sorry she died, particularly for Harry's sake, but when push came to shove, the perfect Lily Evans had abandoned her best friend, who happened to be the man Welkin loved, when he had needed her most. 

Welkin respected Severus's feelings about Lily, and his memories of her, because they were his, and she would never denigrate them to him, but she could also never bring herself to fully respect the woman he still mourned.

No, Welkin decided. She wasn't jealous of her at all. She was pissed at her. Pissed at a dead woman. Let it go, Welkin...let it go. It doesn't matter anymore. Maybe, in time, she could undo more of the emotional damage that his great 'friendship' with Lily had done to Severus, Welkin thought. Lily had lost everything, ultimately, in a terrible and tragic way. Let the woman rest in peace. 

Welkin turned to leave quietly, but something caught her eye. She slowly walked over to the arranged display of photos. They appeared to be former students of Slughorn's. Sure enough, up front and center, was the picture-perfect Lily Evans, smiling her endearing smile, enjoying her place as one of Horace's 'Slug Club' favorites. 

If Lily was here, surely Severus was here too. Welkin rifled through the photos eagerly, and at last spotted his, tucked away towards the back of the arrangement. Welkin lifted it to the light, and gazed at it fondly - her once and future Half-Blood Prince. He was so cute when he was a teenager. She wished she'd had the chance to meet him at that age. Not that he probably would have noticed her then. But it would have been fun trying to get him to. 

I wonder if Slughorn would miss this one? Welkin thought. No...no...she'd better not. Put it back, woman. She started to replace it in the position she'd found it, then stopped. No...it didn't belong there in the back. Severus was the best student he'd ever had, whether Slughorn recognized it or not. Nobody was ever going to relegate Severus Snape to the back of _anything_ again, as long as Welkin was around, and could do something about it. 

Welkin placed Severus's picture front and center, moving Lily's slightly to the side. She pulled her wand, and quietly performed a Sticking Charm. Maybe that would at least give the old coot enough pause to make him think about it, when he finally noticed it and tried to move it back. 

Carefully opening the door, and closing it on the slumbering Potions Master, Welkin paused in the hall to straighten her bag on her shoulder, waved her hand and smiled to herself as her Muggle music came out of nowhere and filled the air. Wasn't magic wonderful? She walked away down the hallway, singing along with _Purple Haze_ by Jimi Hendrix, alarming various students in the hallways each time she shouted along with Hendrix's entreaty, 'Help me! Help me!'.

* * *

The evening meal was almost over in the Great Hall when the second Owl arrived for Hermione. 

The first one had arrived bearing a box of assorted chocolates, gaily wrapped in the Gryffindor colors of scarlet and gold, and Ron Weasley and Harry Potter had pretended to believe Hermione when she said that they were from her parents. 

The second Owl arrived with a bouquet of red roses, their long stems wrapped in glittering green foil and tied with a silver ribbon. When Hermione read the small silver card that was attached, the look on her face made Ron even more doubtful that those came from a family member. He leaned towards her as she hurried to scribble a note herself to send back with the unfamiliar Owl, but she caught him trying to read it, and turned her back to him, blocking his view. She finished her note and gave it to the Owl, with a few coins for the small coin carry bag attached to one of its legs. 

"Like to come with us to Quidditch practice, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"No thank you, Harry. I'm meeting someone for...some studying. I'll see you both tomorrow," she said, sounding much too cheerful to Ron.

"Hmmmpppfff...red roses. Bloke must not be very intelligent," Ron huffed to Harry as Hermione left in a hurry. "Doesn't even know to send the right color. Pink roses...she likes pink," he mumbled. 

Harry gave him a sympathetic look, and offered him some more Chocolate Trifle.

"No thanks, mate. I'm not very hungry," Ron said, pushing it away, and drawing surprised looks from some of their other seatmates, who had never before seen anything that would put Ron Weasley off his appetite.

* * *

Welkin had hoped that becoming Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor this year would improve Severus's outlook on teaching. Unfortunately, the deeply frustrated look on his face as his students shuffled out of his classroom that afternoon, while she waited quietly for him in the back of the room, had spoken much too plainly to her of his continued disappointment with the calling of educating young magicals. 

Severus Snape still hated and despised his job, that much was plain to her. He complained to her bitterly that the new post had not resulted in him gaining more respect from either the students or his fellow faculty members. Teaching was draining him of his vitality, as surely as a vampire drained its victims of their life's blood. Welkin didn't want to see that happen to him, and she could not bear the thought of him caught in this academic spider web any longer than he had to be, if it wasn't what he truly wanted. She didn't broach the subject with him, however, until they were alone later that evening. 

"Severus, after Voldemort is defeated, what do you plan to do?" she asked, in her direct way.

"Plan to...do?" Severus repeated slowly. "What do you mean, Wells?"

"I mean...once there is no more Voldemort, won't you be free to do as you please? What is it that you want to do after that? Do you want to keep teaching? Do you want to stay at Hogwarts?" Welkin regarded him with a serious expression.

"I suppose that I had not considered the future beyond that point," he admitted.

"Why? Because you didn't expect to survive?" Welkin asked even more bluntly.

Snape gave a start, and looked away quickly.

"That's it, isn't it? You never expected to come out of this alive, did you? You didn't even _want_ to. So why make plans when there was no future to plan for?" 

Welkin grasped him by the chin, and turned his angular face back to peer down into her eyes. "Well, things have changed, Severus. Death is no longer an option for you, my love. You're going to live, and you're staying here in this life with me," she said firmly. "So maybe you need to come up with some kind of a long-term plan for us living happily ever after. Do you even _like_ teaching? Did you ever?"

"Not particularly. It was never my choice. I find the lack of mental application amongst most of the students frustrating," Snape admitted.

"Then you shouldn't do it, if it doesn't make you happy," Welkin concluded firmly.

"Things are not as simple as that, Wells. What else would I do to earn a living? What would I be _allowed_ to do. Regardless of the outcome with Voldemort, I will always be an outcast and viewed with suspicion as only an ex-Death Eater by many people, even if they knew that I had not truly supported Voldemort. My job options, therefore, are extremely limited, and since I must provide for myself and my family, teaching appears to be something which I must resign myself to," Snape reasoned. He turned away from her again with a pained expression, before he suddenly blurted out a startling statement to her. 

"I am afraid that you have made an unfortunate match, my love. I am an ugly, reviled, ex-Death Eater, with limited financial resources, and few prospects in life. I have done you a great disservice in marrying you, and creating a child with you."

Welkin quickly walked around him and stood in front of him again, grasping him firmly by his arms.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about yourself like that to me! Don't even _think_ things like that!" Welkin looked as if she were going to strike him. "I'm _honored_ to be your wife! Don't you _ever_ doubt that. Deeply honored, and... _grateful_ that you chose me, Severus!"

Severus stared at her in amazement, momentarily stunned by her vehement emotional outburst. She, the heir to the illustrious bloodline of Morgan le Fay, was honored that _he_ had chosen _her_?

"I'm the luckiest woman alive to have you! You're the most talented, brilliant, _beautiful_ man I've ever known! You don't _ever_ have to settle for something less than what you want, or sacrifice the rest of your life, your ambitions, and your happiness. I don't want you to, or need you to do that. There'll be a way for us to live without you having to. I can get a better paying job if I have to, and we have some money saved. We'll get by," Welkin assured him. "You're a brilliant man, and an amazingly talented wizard. Other people will see that, and reward you for it. I _know_ that they will," Welkin told him adamantly.

But if they don't see it by themselves, I'll make damn sure that they do, Welkin promised herself with great determination.

Welkin was so trusting...so certain that he was deserving. Snape pulled her tightly into his embrace. His precious renegade - so willing to believe in him, and sacrifice herself for him. Maybe he _would_ be able to pursue a different path, if he survived; a better, more successful path.

Independent study, and magical research and development was what he really wanted to do. There never seemed to be enough time for it, what with his teaching duties, and his delicate balancing act, spying for the Order. Maybe things really _could_ be different, after this was over, with Welkin by his side. Severus felt the stirrings of hope and renewed ambition again, for the first time in years.

"Promise me you'll think about what you really want?" Welkin pleaded.

"I shall most certainly think about it," he assured her.

Severus looked down at the lovely and loving woman he had clasped in his arms, and his heart filled with gratitude, and swelled with emotion. _She_ was truly what he wanted most of all, and she was already his. He was already rich in what counted. Hadn't Dumbledore always said that love was what counted most in life? He used to consider Albus a fool for believing that.

* * *

"Have you studied the assignment I set for you the last time we met, Welkin?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course I have. But I don't see what it has to do with dueling," she said.

"A Patronus is a powerful protection, which can be most useful to you in various ways, but particularly in situations where dueling will not suffice," he advised her.

"Severus doesn't think I'm ready for the Patronus Charm yet. He thinks you're rushing me," Welkin said. "Exactly how much danger is involved in this?"

Dumbledore gazed at her over the tops of his glasses. "None whatsoever. Why would you ask that?"

"No reason, except...Severus seemed a little nervous about it when I told him about it. He wouldn't even help me study by showing me how to do one."

"Let me assure you that I have nothing but your best interest at heart," Albus said. 

"No offense intended, but would that be the same _'best interest'_ you've had at heart for Severus all these years?" Welkin asked.

"That sounds rather...challenging, Welkin," Albus replied in a somewhat bemused tone. "Do you not think that to be true?"

"No, I don't. Not in the least. I think you'd throw Severus, or me, or even your precious _Chosen One_ to the wolves if you thought it would defeat Voldemort," she accused. "I appreciate that you kept Severus out of Azkaban, and made a place for him here with you, but it seems to me that he's more than repaid that debt, whether he thinks so or not, and you could have released him from it, but you didn't."

"Your opinion of me seems to have taken a decided downturn," Albus said, more mildly than she would have expected.

"Not of you. I still respect a lot about you. I'm still very fond of you in many ways. But I hate the way you _use_ Severus, like he's nothing but a servant to you. He doesn't deserve that, and you, of all people, know that best. Yet you continue to force things on him, using his guilt and his sense of honor against him. He _trusts_ you, Albus. You're the closest thing to a father that he's had in a long time. It's killing him to do the things you ask him to do. Don't you see that? Don't you care? Please don't treat him like that anymore. How can you, if you feel anything at all for him?"

There was a brief look of pain and conflict in Dumbledore's eyes. He looked tired, and almost longing for release from the heavy burden he had taken on himself. He had elected to orchestrate the saving of the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds from Voldemort. To that end and purpose, terrible sacrifices had been asked, and would continue to be asked of many. He did not have the indulgence of allowing himself to question his own methods too deeply. The fate of two worlds depended upon his ability to be rational, and yes, sometimes even cruel, in the pursuit of that end.

Albus walked away, and turned his back to her for a moment. Welkin got the impression he was collecting his thoughts before he spoke to her again. When he turned back, his face was a mask.

"I am compelled to do certain things, which I do not always desire to do. I have tried to make amends for some of those things in the only way that I knew how. It remains to be seen whether I have succeeded. I wish to proceed with your lesson now."

Albus directed Welkin to take a stance before him with her wand. "To conjure this positive protective force, you must fill your mind with your happiest, most powerful memory. Concentrate only on it, and when it has filled you, speak the Patronus Charm and project the energy through your wand. Are you ready?"

"Yes. A moment please." Welkin knew exactly what her happiest memory was. It took her a minute to empty her mind of her anger with Albus, and he stood patiently, seeming to know that was what she was doing. When she was ready, she began to fill her mind again with thoughts of Severus on the night he had declared himself to her - the night that he had told her that the great love he had held all these years for Lily, was hers as well. Her mind flooded with the overwhelming happiness she had felt as he held her, and promised to love her always and forever.

She raised her wand a little higher, and spoke the words of the incantation with confidence: "Expecto Patronum!" 

Energy in the form of a silver-white light streamed from the tip of her wand in a graceful whirling pattern, gathering itself into a large mass.

Dumbledore held his breath. There was no assurance that Welkin could produce a corporeal Patronus, in which case, there would be nothing on which to base his opinion of why Snape's Patronus had remained unchanged if his love had shifted from Lily to Welkin. 

The energy mass swirled again and expanded more, producing a much larger mass that began to form into an indistinct shape. The light wavered, then grouped itself into something that Albus had never expected. 

Welkin was smiling up happily at her Patronus...a very distinct and antlered Silver Stag...the ideal mate to Snape's Silver Doe.

Albus began to laugh with relief and delight, and came to stand at her side. "My dear...my dear...I congratulate you. You have just cast...the perfect Patronus!"

* * *


	51. A Fiercely Feathered Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva and Severus question Welkin's strange food choices. Hagrid introduces Welkin to a flying horse. Welkin asks for Snape's help to matchmake Hagrid, and helps Severus take inventory in the potions storehouse, both with predictable results.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was looking at Welkin's dessert plate with an expression that successfully managed to combine curiosity with disgust. 

"If you don't mind my asking, what exactly is that you're eating?" she queried.

"Liverwurst and cantaloupe," Welkin answered. "Want some? It's really good together," she said enthusiastically.

"No, thank you," Minerva said with dainty politeness. There was no accounting for the taste of Americans where food was concerned.

Severus, who was listening to the exchange with more interest than he usually showed to Welkin's sometimes odd food choices, leaned over to whisper to her.

"Wells, are you..."

"No! I'm _not_ pregnant!" she hissed back. "I'm _not_ having food cravings!" She shot him an annoyed look. "Don't talk about that here in public! It's personal!"

"My...aren't _we_ suddenly so fastidious about such things," Snape observed. "I was merely inquiring whether something might have gone awry with your contraceptive procedures."

"Nothing _has_ , and nothing _will_ ," Welkin assured him firmly. 

"The potion is not one hundred percent foolproof. I shouldn't count on that if I were you," he smirked back at her. "There is no assurance that one of our innumerable couplings over the course of the next two years will not succeed in defying the odds, and confounding your arbitrary attempt at scheduling."

What did he mean by that? Welkin wondered. She couldn't work herself up to be too worried about it, even though he was right, of course. One of his wigglers could slip through the net somehow and do the conception tango with one of her eggs. If his sperm were as determined as he was about most things, she had real cause for concern. And they _did_ do it quite a lot. Wait a minute. Was that why he'd been at her so much more often this summer than usual? Maybe it wasn't a surge of testosterone, or lack of other things to occupy his mind, as he had claimed. Maybe he'd really been hoping he'd knock her up just by the law of averages. 

Welkin narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the sneaky Slytherin bastard sitting next to her, who had returned to calmly eating his own more modest portion of dessert, a sliver-thin slice of Devil's Food Cake. A pretty appropriate choice, if you thought about it.

If what she suspected was true, what could she do about it? Nothing, really. It's not like he was breaking his promise not to tamper with her contraceptive potion. She would just have to hope that the law of averages worked out in her favor, because she damn well wasn't about to give up having sex with him. That would be insane, she decided. That would be like being married to Willie Wonka, and deciding to give up candy. 

Welkin was distracted by the sight of yet another Owl swooping into the Great Hall and soaring towards the Gryffindor table. It came to a graceful landing squarely in front of Hermione Granger, and she quickly took the letter it was carrying, and extracted one from her bag to give to it in return. 

That was every day for five straight days, Welkin thought, and that fact, coupled with the sour look on Ron Weasley's face every time the Owl arrived, made Welkin think that Hermione must have found herself a new boyfriend somewhere over the summer. 

Ron was sitting there now, looking like he wanted to Incendio that poor bird. Welkin felt a little sorry for him, but it really was his own fault. He'd hesitated too long, and somebody else snatched up the prize. Hermione deserved to have a little fun with someone who was more attentive to her, Welkin decided. In the end, whatever was meant to be, would be.

Welkin went back to enjoying her liverwurst and caught Minerva looking at her again. She wrapped a small slice of the spicy pork liver sausage around the end of a piece of cantaloupe and stuffed it into her mouth, wiggling her eyebrows at Minerva as she chewed and swallowed with gusto.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Welkin grinned, earning another disapproving look from Minerva.

* * *

"Yeh just have ter let 'im come ter yeh. Don't try ter rush 'im. Take it nice and slow," Hagrid advised.

Welkin stood quietly in place and watched as the proud creature pranced in place skittishly, eyeing her as suspiciously as she sometimes eyed her own husband. The difference was, Welkin had ceased to be skittish about approaching Severus within hours of first petting him, and letting him pet her. Hopefully, the powerful need for connection would lure this lovely winged thing within her grasp as well.

"I didn't know winged horses could be black. I've only ever seen pictures of white ones, like Pegasus," Welkin observed to Hagrid.

"Oh, no...they come in all the colors, they do. Even seen one meself 'bout the color o' the heathers," Hagrid said, as the animal continued to slowly advance until it was less than two feet away.

"Reach out yeh're hand now. Nice an' slow. Let 'im get yeh're scent," Hagrid advised.

Welkin stretched out her arm slowly. "Nice boy...pretty boy...come let me touch you, pretty boy," she cajoled. Come to think of it, this was pretty much how she'd had to lure Severus in close enough to touch that first night she'd been with him. She smiled to herself with amusement at the memory of how formal and forbidding he'd been before she broke down his reserve with a slap. 

The winged horse thrust out his muzzle, and sniffed at her fingers gingerly, then snorted and pawed the ground again. 

"Good...good," Hagrid smiled. "Give 'im this, an' yeh'll be 'is friend." He pressed an apple into her hand. "I don' have no single malt whisky with me. That would work better, but I think he'll like this."

Welkin held her palm out flat, and offered the shiny red apple.

"Here, winged beauty, come and get it. There's no harm here for you. I just want to touch you. I don't want to take away your freedom. No saddles or reins for you, my black beauty," Welkin said. 

The sleek black animal stretched out its neck again and sniffed the piece of fruit, curled its lips back from its teeth, and suddenly chomped down on the apple, removing it cleanly and harmlessly from her hand. Welkin immediately turned her palm down again.

"Hold yeh're hand there. Steady...steady," Hagrid said, as the animal finished the apple and slowly nudged its muzzle against the palm of her hand. "That's good. Yeh're doin' real good," Hagrid praised Welkin as she stroked the animal's muzzle with smooth, light strokes.

"Such a beauty...such a prince," Welkin praised, smiling with delight. "Such a brave, black prince you are," she continued, as the animal folded his wings, and stood there regally, allowing her to admire him.

Welkin smiled at Hagrid. "Thank you for showing him to me, and showing me how to approach him. He's a real beauty," she said enthusiastically. "You're such a good teacher," she added.

Hagrid would have made a first rate veterinarian in the Muggle world, Welkin decided. He had such a natural affinity for, and love of animals of all sorts, from the largest dragon, to the tiniest fluff-ball of a kitten. Sometimes he tended to underestimate the destructive capacity of some of the larger, more aggressive beasties, but that was just part of his love for them. Come to think of it, Welkin had seen some pretty destructive kittens in her day too. Maybe there _was_ such a thing as a docile dragon.

Hagrid's tutoring sessions had come to be some of her favorites, and not just because they were usually conducted outdoors. He was so kind and patient, and obviously enjoyed doing what he did, unlike poor Severus. He never said anything bad about Severus to her either, and she liked that about him too.

Severus, on the other hand, had been somewhat skeptical of Hagrid's skills as an instructor, or the usefulness of the classes to her, when Welkin had first started her tutoring sessions with him. Consequently, she often went out of her way to report to Severus how good an instructor Hagrid was, and how much she was learning. 

Hagrid looked pleased, but blushed slightly at Welkin's praise. "Wasn' much," he said humbly. "He likes yeh. He knows yeh're good folks. Not like 'em that on'y wants ter harness 'im and make 'im carry 'em on his back," Hagrid said.

"Oh, he doesn't have to worry about that. I couldn't ride him even if I wanted to. I'd be too terrified of falling off! I can't even stay on a broom six feet off the ground, much less fly that high in the sky bareback on a flying horse. I'm afraid I'm destined to be strictly earthbound for the rest of my wizarding life. Madam Hooch has pretty much given up on me in disgust at this point. I think I'm driving the woman to drink," Welkin confessed.

"She might be usin' yer fer an excuse now, but I 'spect Neville Longbottom has put 'er in 'er cups more than yer have," Hagrid said. "I hate ter carry tales, but tha' boy's a mess when it comes ter flyin'. I 'spect no winged creature's safe wha' crosses paths with 'im on a broom!"

Black 'Pegasus' whinnied and shook his regal head up and down vigorously, as if in agreement, causing Hagrid and Welkin both to laugh in unison.

Poor Neville, Welkin thought. His reputation for clumsiness had to be pretty bad if even Hagrid and flying horses made jokes about it.

* * *

"No, Welkin, I do _not_ think that Lilith the Amazon, as you call her, would consider accompanying Rubeus Hagrid on a dinner date," Snape said brusquely, "and I have no intention whatsoever of asking her whether she would." 

"One jar of Salamander Blood, two Griffin Claws, and one jar of...Eye of Newt? Damn! Do you really use that stuff? I thought that was only something Shakespeare made up in _Macbeth!_ " Welkin grinned down at Snape as he efficiently checked the list on his clipboard.

"William Shakespeare was a wizard, but not a very accomplished potioneer," Snape informed her blandly.

Welkin did a double take. Was he kidding? Sometimes she wasn't sure when he said things like that to her. It would certainly explain a lot about the controversies that had sprung up surrounding Shakespeare's true identity, if Severus were serious about it.

"Why won't you ask Lilith about Hagrid?" Welkin queried innocently. "She's about the tallest woman I know, and she certainly seems pretty liberal sexually. I don't think she would necessarily reject the idea automatically. Maybe the big cuddly grizzly bear type appeals to her. Hagrid's a Sagittarius. What sign is she? Maybe they're very compatible," she told him speculatively.

"Perhaps if she were a flesh-eating Thestral, or a venomous Acromantula, I might tend to agree with you, but as she is neither, I would suggest that you do not pursue this patently absurd idea any further," Snape advised, giving her his warning look. "Next shelf please," he motioned at her with his quill.

"Back row is...two jars of Bloodroot, one jar of Dragonfly Wings, one large bag of Snakeweed, one jar of Porcupine Quills, and four Bezoars...make that three...I'm going to need one for the next batch of drink," Welkin recited. Snape checked off the ingredients on his inventory as he continued to harangue her. 

"Might I add that this unfortunate tendency of yours to suggest these ridiculous pairings is beginning to annoy me greatly. First it was Minerva McGonagall and Aberforth Dumbledore, and now, Rebeus Hagrid and...well...anyone at all. If you continue in this manner, you will soon be opening a dating service for the Merpeople in Black Lake. It is most unseemly, and I wish it to cease. I will not countenance it," Snape told her primly. He stood next to the ladder she was perched on, looking up at her with disapproval.

Very funny. He knew very well that the Merpeople didn't need a dating service, Welkin thought. They were a pretty uninhibited lot.

"I will not countenance it...I will not countenance it," Welkin mimicked in a persnickety sounding voice. "That's all you ever say to me. Is there anything at all that I ever do that you _will_ countenance?" she asked with mild exasperation. 

Snape stood looking up at her with maddening calmness of demeanor.

"Yes, I believe that there is," he said. He let his gaze sweep over her jeans-clad rump deliberately, to make his intentions clear to her. Welkin suddenly realized that she had stepped into his trap by asking that question, and it had just sprung shut.

"Don't even think about it. Maybe fifteen minutes ago I might have been considering it, but I'm not in the mood now," Welkin told him. She sounded and looked cranky to Snape, as cranky as Sullivan was when he was tired, but refused to be lulled to sleep by the rocker.

"I shall remedy that," he said, setting his clipboard and quill on one of the lower shelves, and moving closer to her to grasp her around her waist firmly. "Come down, my pet. I think that it is time for a break."

"Go remedy yourself. I don't want to be remedied, and I don't need a break," Welkin said sullenly. She wrapped her arms around a rung of the ladder, resisting his attempts to pull her down from her perch. 

"Yes, you do," Snape assured her, his voice suddenly silky and seductive.

"No...I don't," Welkin assured him right back, clinging to the ladder like a cat with her claws dug into the bark of a tree. "Don't! You're rocking the ladder. These Pickled Slugs and Eel Eyes aren't going to count themselves, you know. We have to finish the inventory for Slughorn," she told him sanctimoniously. "Business before pleasuring is my motto now. See how well you've taught me? Aren't you proud of me?" she teased. 

"We shall count them tomorrow," he promised. "Come down, Wells. It is your duty as my assistant to follow my instructions."

"I'm not officially your assistant. I'm just an indentured servant. Anyway, that's what you promised the last time, and the time before that. I don't want to be your unpaid flunky anymore. You take too many breaks, and it's making my pussy sore." She began to giggle in spite of herself, while he attempted to wrestle her down by gripping her by the calves of her legs, and tugging at her as she continued to resist him strenuously. 

Welkin saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the open doorway to the Potions Storehouse. Damn! They should have shut the door. That man was everywhere! Why wasn't he in his quarters listening to his chamber music? Or giving Harry Potter another motivational speech or something? Why did he have to shadow her and Severus everywhere they went and spoil their fun? Oh, what the hell, Welkin thought. Let him put them under house arrest if he had to. She really didn't care anymore if he caught them.

"Sexual harrassment! Help me, Albus! I'm being sexually harrassed by a Hogwarts staff member!" she pleaded dramatically. 

Snape stopped tugging at her, and stood there gazing at Albus uncertainly, but without releasing his firm grip on Welkin's legs.

Albus looked from one to the other without the least bit of surprise in his expression. But then he did something that neither of them expected. 

"I'm afraid that I can't assist you, Welkin. I choose not to interfere in how Professor Snape deals with either his students, his personal life, or his assistants. I trust him implicitly to do the right thing. I'm sure you'll thank me for my relative lack of interference later, my dear. Carry on, Severus." 

Albus smiled at them with a more spritely twinkle in his eyes, and just before he turned away, he pointed at Welkin and spoke a few words tersely, magically loosening her grasp on the rung of the ladder, and flinging her backwards into Snape's waiting arms.

"Excellent catch, Severus," he said approvingly, and closed the door securely on them.

"I can't believe it! He didn't lecture us, or banish us to our quarters without supper. Or even deduct House points. Fuck me!" Welkin exclaimed in mock surprise.

"I should like to, if you are agreeable," Snape replied softly, seeking her consent this time, instead of her surrender. He brushed his lips lightly against hers. "But I would not wish to be accused of sexually harassing you, although I am not sure what constitutes harassment in this particular situation."

"Of course I'm agreeable, Professor Snape. We wouldn't want to disappoint the headmaster, now would we? He seems to have certain expectations of us in this situation. Don't you worry...I'll show you _exactly_ what constitutes sexual harassment, Sevvy," she promised him with a throaty laugh, wrapping her arms more tightly about him. 

Snape spoke a Cushioning Charm before he lowered them both to the floor of the dimly lit room. This really was one of Welkin's favorite places to do it, because there were so many interesting smells from the potions ingredients wafting by the nostrils to excite the senses. It was almost like incense, and the close, dark quarters were very romantic to her, in an oddly cluttered, uncomfortable way. 

She might be earthbound by her fear of heights, but Severus took her to heights that no one else could ever attain by broom, or winged horse, or even rocketing space shuttle. 

Lying beneath Severus now, his hard body molded tightly to hers, Welkin kissed him hungrily on the lips, her passions inflamed by the feel of his warm, rough hands roaming over the familiar terrain of her body, taking his own form of inventory. She captured the lobe of his ear between her teeth, nibbling and sucking lightly at it, her arms about him, stroking and kneading his back as she felt her own tension slowly building, and she absorbed through her fingertips the feel of his excitement quickly rising. Welkin suddenly flashed on the image of the flying horse bounding joyfully into the air and taking flight at the end of her lesson this morning, and it inspired her. 

"My love for you is a fiercely feathered thing...my Dark Angel...my lusty black stallion...my Severus," she whispered to him, stirring both his heart and the fire in his loins with her unexpectedly poetic words. "Where are your wings, my love? If I pet you, will you show them to me?" she asked, just before he silenced her again with his lips, and started her inexorable ascent into the stratosphere with his unmistakably sensual kisses, feasting on her mouth ravenously until Welkin, consumed with her awful, wonderful, overwhelming need for him, finally cried out loudly to him, pleading for him to enter her.

Sinking into the welcoming warmth of her body, Severus Snape spread his wings joyfully and took flight, soaring with Welkin once again towards the edge of their sweet mutual oblivion.

* * *


	52. Sweet Savage Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape frets about his son's lisp, and his own future relationship with Sullivan. Welkin reads the 'good parts' of some popular wizarding romance literature to Severus, and gives him a special gift, which is much more painful than she expected. Voldemort discovers Welkin's big secret and makes plans, and Bella annoys the Dark Lord with her jealousy and dogged devotion.

* * *

"He's still just a baby, even if he is saying a few words here and there. A lot of children lisp a little when they start to talk, Severus. He'll learn to say it correctly, in time. You worry too much," Welkin told him.

"I will not have my son announcing to everyone at Hogwarts that he is 'ully 'nape," Snape insisted. "He should learn to say his name properly, or…"

"Let me guess…you will not countenance it?" 

Welkin smiled indulgently at him as she crossed the room with the paperback book she'd gone to get, and took her place in his lap.

"Or…as I was going to say before you interrupted me…I am certain that Sullivan will be teased and tormented about it by the other children. You do not always have the foreknowledge of what I am going to say, or the ability to complete my sentences for me, Welkin. It is somewhat presumptuous of you to continually attempt to do so," Snape told her, frowning at her. It was another of her somewhat annoying personal habits. Not that it was always annoying. Sometimes he liked being that transparent to her, but this was not one of those times.

"It saves time when I finish your sentences. You're pretty long-winded sometimes. Sometimes you crap on forever about things. What other children are you talking about? Has somebody else had a baby around here that I don't know about? Sully's too young to be teased about his lisp by anybody yet. He's barely a year old. It's just cute to people right now when he says 'nape. We can both work with him if we need to later on. He just has trouble with the ess and the el sounds right now. It really isn't anything to worry about, Sevvy," Welkin reassured him again. "He's smart as a whip. You already know that. His little eyes don't miss a thing!" she said proudly.

"Sullivan is quite exceptional in many ways," Snape agreed. "I have no doubt that he is destined for greatness. You have predicted as much."

"You see? A little thing like a temporary lisp isn't anything to get all upset about. I couldn't say my els either, until my brother coached me on them when I was two. And it took Glenn months to teach me how to tell time. I kept shouting three o'clock every time, because that's what time he'd first moved the hands to on the broken clock he used as a visual aid."

"My father would certainly never have countenanced a lisp," Snape grumbled, with a troubled, faraway look in his eyes. It made Welkin wonder if he'd even heard half of what she'd said about it. His mind seemed to be in the past today, which was definitely not a good place for him to be revisiting, Welkin thought. There was almost nothing good back there for him to find.

"Your father was a very miserable, unhappy man a good deal of the time, based on what you've told me about him," Welkin observed. "Who really knows all the reasons why? And who really cares at this point?"

"I do, Wells," Severus said quietly. "I must, if I am not to repeat his mistakes with you and Sullivan." He shifted uncomfortably, but resisted the urge to keep his fears bottled up inside, as used to be his custom, before Welkin. 

"After a point, when I was older, I felt nothing but disdain for my father and his pettiness, instead of fear and anger. But I wish Sullivan not to feel any of those things for me at all. I know that I am not…an easy man to live with," he admitted with difficulty. "What if I become to Sullivan as my father was to me?" He looked at Welkin with a worried expression. 

"No chance of that, my love. The fact that you can even be concerned about that means that your heart's in the right place, and you won't ever let that happen. You could never say the cruel things to Sully that your father said to you and your mother. Or lay your hands on us in anger," Welkin added, recalling Severus's most upsetting childhood memory. "You have too much self-control to let that happen."

"It was only the one time, and he had been drinking to excess. The mill had closed and he was without work for an extended period of time," Snape explained his Muggle father's actions hastily. "He was not always so…in the beginning he was less stern, before I showed him what I was."

"You mean, before you showed him how talented you were. He should have been proud of you for that, Severus, not afraid of you, and afraid of what the neighbors would think. Don't make excuses for him. It doesn't matter why he did it, Severus. He had no right to do that to her, or to you, under _any_ circumstances. You were just a little boy. You deserved a lot better than you got…from the both of them. They must have loved each other once, but something happened to that, and unfortunately, you just got lost along the way. You were the most precious thing they still had together, and they couldn't even see that." 

Welkin put her arms around his stiff neck to hug him, and he relaxed perceptibly. "Anyway…I've found you now. You'll never be lost or forgotten again, I promise you." 

"Wells…I love you," Severus said suddenly.

"I know it. What's not to love?" she replied with a cocky grin. "I love you too," she added, as her grin faded. 

Most of the time, it was very easy for her to love Severus. But sometimes, when his insecurities acted up like this, loving Severus Snape was a hell of a lot of work. Her chosen job of loving and supporting him was sometimes taxing to her patience, but it was never boring, and there were plenty of interesting fringe benefits to be had, in her access to his body, mind, and spirit.

This conversation was depressing them both, Welkin decided. She needed to distract him with something more pleasant.

"Sully's absolutely crazy about you, you know, just like I am. He loves his Daddy so much now, and he always will," Welkin asserted to him, drawing the worrisome subject to a close.

"Tell me, you pompous ass," she said fondly, "would I ever be stupid enough to sit in your lap like this if I was afraid of anything you might do or say to me? Would I cheerfully fuck a man senseless who was cruel to me? Would I read soft-core pornography to a man who was like that, right before I fuck him senseless?" she asked him facetiously.

The expression in his sad, dark eyes changed immediately to an inquisitive, curious one. If Severus had been a dog, his ears would have perked up and poked through the dark curtain of hair framing his angular, pale face, as he sensed the imminent presentation of a particularly tasty doggie treat. 

"You wish to read to me?" he asked with interest. He liked it nearly as much when Welkin read to him as she did when he read from his books to her. He found her low voice very soothing and sensual.

"I've got something a little different for you. It's a little less high-minded than what we normally read to each other, but I think you'll like it. I picked it up in Hogsmeade at one of the shops where they're now carrying a small selection of paperback literature popular with witches of all ages. It's a lot like the Muggle historical romance bodice-rippers I used to read when I was a teenager," Welkin said, showing him the brightly colored cover of the one she'd purchased.

The cover featured a pale, ruggedly handsome dark-haired wizard with long, flowing locks of hair. He was dressed in a kilt, and had a lovely, buxom, auburn-haired maiden crushed against his manly chest under an oak tree in the moonlight. The couple were moving and writhing slowly and sensually against one another, entwined in a passionate kiss, and as Snape watched, they turned their heads towards him, their cheeks pressed together, and both winked broadly, smiling happily at him. 

"It's from the immensely popular _Sweet Savage Wizard_ series, by Desiree Bitte," Welkin grinned, as Snape rolled his eyes at her.

"Your choices in literature, akin to your choices in food combinations, are rather questionable, it would appear," he drawled. 

"Don't be so damn snooty and condescending about it, or I'm going to start calling you Narcissa," Welkin warned him jokingly. "We read plenty of great literature together all the time. Just think of this less as great literature, and more as entertainment and foreplay," she told him. 

If he wasn't already so inclined, the mention of the word foreplay would definitely assure his cooperation, Welkin thought confidently. Foreplay, presentplay, afterplay; he was always pretty much up for any type of physical play she suggested, with a few notable exceptions. 

"I marked some of the good parts, and skipped the boring stuff, like plotting. Who is that writer kidding with that plot crap? Who the fuck really cares about the plot in something like this anyway? Witches just read these to masturbate to. I know I used to when I was a girl," she grinned. "I spent many a rainy Sunday afternoon diddling myself to a rip-roarin' climax to one of these babies," she informed him. "It was fucking fantastic fantasy stuff…until I discovered real cocks. Fantasy fucking kind of pales by comparison to an encounter with a real honest-to-goodness cock."

Snape frowned at the back of her head, not happy with her announcement about the joys and benefits of discovering someone else's real cock at such a young age.

Welkin felt Severus's body stiffen beneath hers, and not in a good way. "Nobody else's cock even comes close to yours though, sweetness. Yours is absolutely gorgeous. Makes me wet just thinking about it," she said matter-of-factly. It was all true, but it was also a very well-timed ego-boosting statement on her part, and it worked.

Snape relaxed again, and smiled indulgently at her expressive vulgarities. His Welkin certainly had a way with words, even if all of them weren't always fit for mixed company…or any company other than his, really. The shocked expressions of other people when she sometimes let a forbidden phrase slip out in their presence actually amused him quite a bit under most circumstances. It was quite entertaining the way they stammered and blushed, or pretended not to hear, while Welkin just kept talking, usually blithely unaware that she'd said anything amiss at all. 

Welkin settled herself in again comfortably. She leaned back against Snape's chest, and opened the book to the first of the 'good' passages she had saved with a Marking Charm. She began to read to him in her low, sultry, expressively emotional voice.

"Hyacinth gasped with equal parts of fear for her unsullied maidenhead, and excited anticipation, as the handsome Chief of the Wizarding Clan of MacCoinnich guided her trembling, pale hand to grasp his rapidly swelling manhood beneath his kilt. 'Sir! I have never known a man before in such an intimate way. Is it your intention to despoil my innocence? I thought you a wizard of honor, Sir. Am I only a hostage whose body will be ravished for your sordid pleasures?' " Welkin read the words breathily to him. 

"God, I hope so," Welkin added sotto voce. "Otherwise I need to skip some more fucking pages."

"She is virgin?" Snape asked, with a little more interest than Welkin had expected. "Is she Witch or Muggle?"

"Yes, she's a virgin, and a Muggle, a heady combination for him, since he's never had a Muggle maiden before, and he's just about to rip her clothes off and despoil her with his massive 'magic wand' until morning breaks over the heathers, kind of like you did to me. Hold the questions, please…we're just getting to the really good part," Welkin said impatiently.

"Of course, Welkin. I did not mean to interrupt the fascinating narrative of Hyacinth's deflowering," Snape apologized with somewhat doubtful sincerity. "However, I feel compelled to point out that you were neither Muggle nor virgin when we met, my pet." 

"Mere technicalities. You _thought_ I was a Muggle, and I _might_ have been a virgin, for all you knew, unless you checked while I was unconscious, and you said you didn't. You _did_ rip my nightgown off, and you _do_ have a massive wand," she pointed out. "So there are plenty of similarities. Now, stop critiquing and listen." She poked him in the ribs to silence him. 

"Oh…I almost forgot…you can touch me while I'm reading, if you want to," Welkin informed him graciously. 

Snape pressed his thin lips together in amusement at her self-serving announcement. If she wanted him to touch her, why didn't she just say so? She wasn't usually shy about such things. 

He suddenly realized that he'd already begun to touch her as she read, without her prompting. He didn't really need her approval for that, but it was good to have it. He liked it when she either obliquely, or directly, initiated sex with him. The knowledge that she planned to incite his passion for her by reading to him tonight was quite flattering to his ego, as well as stimulating. He let her continue reading, without further comment, filing away in his mind the lurid, but somewhat intriguing sexual scenario she was relating to him, to surprise Welkin with in a reenactment at some later date.

Further availing himself of her generous offer, Snape cupped one of Welkin's soft, firm breasts in his palm, and began to play with it through her nightgown while she read to him. He could not turn her to kiss her on her sweet mouth, because that would interfere with the flow of her reading, but perhaps she would allow him to pleasure her between her pale thighs, kissing her delectably moist nether lips, when the action of the story progressed to an appropriately salacious point. Hopefully, that would be soon. His own 'sweet savage wizard' was already beginning to stir between his legs, as she continued the saucy narrative of Hyacinth, the Muggle maiden, and her lusty Wizard, Iain MacCoinnich.

* * *

Voldemort closed the leather-bound volume he was reading as Bellatrix Lestrange lingered in his presence, obviously wanting his permission to remain for the evening.

"Can't you see that I am occupied?" he asked sternly. "I have already dismissed you." 

Bella cringed a little at her Lord's annoyance, but stood her ground. She even edged closer to the desk, surreptitiously attempting to see the cover of the book he had been so intent on. 

There was no title on the dark, plainly-bound book to give her a clue as to why the Dark Lord found it to be such an absorbing read. She did, however, catch sight of something else on the desk beside it - a newspaper clipping from the _Daily Prophet_. Even upside down she recognized the auburn-haired woman in the picture. It was Severus Snape's wife, the one she had finally met briefly when she and Narcissa visited Snape at Spinner's End over the summer, to extract the Unbreakable Vow from him.

What interest could Lord Voldemort possibly have in her? Bella wondered, her hatred of the woman rising again, like the night that he had praised Welkin Snape's physical attributes in the same breath that he had denigrated her as a feeble-minded Muggle slut that Snape was merely using for his perverted sexual pleasures. Her sister Narcissa had found some excuse to exit the drawing room, leaving her and Lucius alone with the Dark Lord, and Lucius had goaded her later about her reaction to Voldemort's statements. 

What that strutting peacock Lucius Malfoy had ever seen in Narcissa, who had always been a bit too prim and proper for her own good, Bella didn't know. Bella had sampled her dear brother-in-law herself less than six months into their marriage, and had promptly decided that a man of his unusual appetites was totally wasted on Cissy, who would never be able to properly appreciate him. 

On the other hand, Lucius had little to recommend him other than his abilities in bed. Lucius was a foppish coward, and a sycophant, licking at Voldemort's boots, deluding himself that the Dark Lord valued him for anything but his and Cissy's money, and a place to hold his meetings and planning sessions. For all his bowing and scraping, see what it had gotten Lucius - a cell in Azkaban, and his wife and son practically in hostage to Voldemort. Not that it concerned Bella, as long as she could serve Voldemort, and make herself indispensible to him somehow.

Bella had warned Voldemort many times not to trust Snape and his silkily presented excuses about things, such as the reason he had not sought his master after that night at Godric's Hollow. There was no real evidence that she could point to, to show Voldemort that Snape was not still loyal to him, but she felt it in her bones. She watched him closely, and waited. Someday he would slip, and she would have what she needed to convince the Dark Lord. Perhaps then, she could take her place at his side, where she rightfully belonged - the place where Snape still undeservedly stood. Then, she could prove her love to him, and Voldemort would grant her the honor of becoming his acknowledged consort. She, who had always loved him, and never lost hope for his return. She, who had gladly gone to Azkaban and spent years in that hellish place, rather than denounce her allegiance to him, would finally have what she wanted most from him.

"Admiring Severus's wife, I see," Voldemort said, fixing his red, demon-fired eyes on Bella. "I wouldn't have expected it, considering that Lucius informed me, before his current incarceration, that you seemed not to appreciate my interest in her." 

"No, my Lord…Lucius is mistaken. If you show interest in that pathetic piece of Muggle filth, I know it could only be because you have some paltry use for her in your great plans. Perhaps as a way to keep Snape in line," Bella suggested eagerly, seeing a possible opening with the Dark Lord to interject her doubts about Snape again. "I wouldn't presume to question…"

Voldemort stood abruptly and snaked out an arm, grasping her painfully by the throat, squeezing slowly, and strangling her response to a halt. He had seen the truth in her mind, despite her efforts to shield her thoughts from him. 

"Do you fancy yourself an affronted lover, Bella?" he hissed cruelly, as she began to gasp painfully for air. He could use the Cruciatus Curse on her, of course, but in some ways, using his hands to physically punish her for her arrogance was so much more satisfying.

"Did I ever grant you permission to think of me in that way?" he demanded, raising her feet off the floor, and holding her dangling, kicking feebly as he tightened his grip on her even more. 

"No…my…Lord!" Bella finally managed to croak out. 

Lord Voldemort pulled her across the desk close enough to his face that she could see the chilling emptiness in those eyes, except for the glint of cruelty, the only warmth he now responded to. Then he released her, flinging her away from him, and her body arched through the air before she landed painfully on the floor. 

Bella choked, grasped at her throat, and then scuttled away from him backwards like a crab.

Voldemort regarded the fear in her eyes with disdain. And to think that she fancied herself a proper match for him. She had shown such promise in the beginning. Her devotion, and her genuine talent for cruelty and torture, and the pleasure she took in killing and maiming for him had impressed him. She had power and skill, and commanded a fair amount of fear amongst the other Death Eaters. He might even have considered her as his consort after the coming war, despite her occasional lapses of judgment, and her unfortunate tendency to jealousy, particularly where Severus was concerned. Severus…who he still trusted as much as he did any man…despite what he had just learned. Perhaps, after all, Severus was not aware of it. Perhaps she had concealed it from him. 

Whatever the result in regards to Severus, the time that he might have considered Bella as his consort had passed, Voldemort decided. It was no longer feasible. Not after what he had just read in the journal that Yaxley had brought him from where it had been discovered among Huldra Helliwell's personal effects, in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There was someone new in contention for that honor now. Her name was Welkin Snape, who he now knew was heir to the powerful and prestigious bloodline of the Dark Sorceress, Morgan le Fay. 

"Well…" he said, regarding Bella coolly. "Are you still waiting for something? An invitation to stay, perhaps?"

Bella looked up at him numbly, her eyes full of longing, and unshed tears. If he had asked her to immolate herself right here in front of him to prove herself worthy, she would have gladly done it.

"LEAVE ME!" he roared. "Get out of my sight, you pathetic, weak imbecile!" he demanded. The very thing he had admired in her in the beginning, her devotion to him, now made her weak in his eyes, and disgusted him.

They were all pathetic weaklings; pawns to be used in his quest for immortality and power - even Severus. When the time came, and he revealed his wife's secret to him, and what his plans were for her, Severus would stand aside and hand her over willingly. Of that, he had no doubt. If not out of loyalty to his master, then out of fear of what his master would surely do to him. Severus was too valuable to test his loyalty in that way just yet, however. He had important tasks which he wished him to fulfill.

"Go, I said. Do not try my patience, or before I am through with you, there will be nothing left of you for Nagini," Voldemort warned her. "Muggle flesh is not the only sort that she feeds on."

"Yes…yes, My Lord," Bella groveled. She scrambled to her feet and fled the room hastily. It was only after she was safely gone from Voldemort's presence that she thought of Welkin Snape again as she descended the main stairway at Malfoy Manor. Her howls of frustrated rage echoed in the silence, as she drew her wand and petulantly blasted the expensive wall décor into a thousand splintered pieces.

* * *

"Iain's stiff, throbbing manhood ripped her maidenhead asunder and Hyacinth cried out in agony. Although it hurt her, it was also strangely pleasurable, and to his surprise, she began to beg him not to stop, as he plunged into her velvet glove of a quim faster, with more forceful thrusts. He went deep and thrust away like mad, until Hyacinth's whimpers turned to moans of passion," Welkin read.

"One moment, please," Snape begged Welkin's indulgence, as he slid from beneath her, and positioned himself on his knees between her thighs. He shoved up her nightgown and pressed her knees wide apart, before dipping to lick her slit with one long stroke of his tongue from bottom to top. "You may continue," he told her.

"Sevvy…ummm…uh…before you get too vigorous with your tongue down there, I need to tell you something," Welkin said, putting down the book. "I was keeping it as a surprise, but…"

"You are pregnant?" Snape asked excitedly.

"No, damn it! That's not the surprise! I know how much you like to be the first to do things with me, and I was doing a little research in the Restricted Section of the library - don't ask how I got past Pince or the alarm system, it's a long story - and I found this special potion in one of the books, and I brewed it up all by myself with stuff from your storehouse, and I took it this afternoon," she said in an excited rush. 

"You experimented on yourself with a potion you got from the Restricted Section? Welkin! You must not do such things without consulting me. You could have injured yourself!" Snape looked concerned.

"Well, I didn't injure myself, and I couldn't consult you because I wanted it to be a surprise. And it worked! Notice anything different about me?" she asked with a grin. 

Snape looked her up and down in puzzlement. "No, I do not," he said finally.

Welkin spread her legs wide. "Would you like to look a little closer?" she grinned wider. 

"I thought that was what I was doing before you interrupted me," Snape said, frowning. "And I wish to continue, if you will but tell me what your surprise is."

"Well…I know how much you like it when I pretend to be a virgin…soooo…now I am," she announced proudly. "I re-grew my hymen for you, sweetness. Tonight you get to bust my cherry!" 

"You did what?" Snape couldn't help staring at her exposed quim. He had heard of such a thing, of course, but he had never known anyone who actually used the required potion to renew themselves in that area. 

"I said…I made myself a virgin again. Just for you. Maybe I need to re-grow you some eardrums. You're getting hard of hearing. I want you to take my maidenhead, darling; just like in the story." 

"But, Welkin…the pain. Why would you want to endure that again?"

Welkin's smile faded at the look on his face. 

"I don't care about that, Sevvy. I wanted to give you something special. It'll just hurt and bleed a little. It's not like it's going to kill me. Don't you _want_ to pop my cherry with your great big throbbing python of passion?" she asked. 

She took his hand and began to suck on one of his long fingers suggestively, looking up at him beguilingly as he stood over her, shifting nervously from bare foot to bare foot. 

"You have a big ole monster of a stiffy, sweetie. It's making your nightshirt stand out like a tent pole. Don't you want to put your sweet honeystick inside my nice hot cauldron, give it a lovely long stir, and brew up something magical with me?"

Snape groaned as her bare foot rose to just below his waist level, and she planted the heel of her foot squarely, but gently in his crotch. She wiggled her toes against his erection.

"Don't you want to put your love wand into my tight little muffin, and be my ever lovin' Cherry Poppin' Daddy?" Welkin wheedled. "Oh, come on, Sevvy! You can give me a pain potion afterwards. I promise I'll even drink it this time. Please? This is only good for twenty-four hours. It has to be tonight."

He did have plenty of pain potions on hand, he admitted to himself, owing to his vigorous lovemaking style, and his prodigiously large cock. Welkin rarely took them, but he always offered them to her.

"Very well, my love," he finally consented. "Please stop rubbing your foot there, or I shall spend myself, and not be able to impale you with the necessary force," he requested, removing her foot gingerly from his crotch.

"Yay! Don't you think that sex is a lot less complicated, now that you magically expanded our living space, and Sully has his own room?" Welkin asked.

"Sex is never uncomplicated with you, Wells. I never know whether I will encounter a slut, or a virgin, when I climb into bed with you each evening."

"How about a virginal slut, or a slutty virgin? Take your pick," she grinned, assuming she had won the victory.

"I do not intend to go easy on you; you understand that, do you not?" he warned her, as they turned down the covers, got into bed and doused the lights. 

"I know it. I don't expect you to. This is a deflowering, not an ice cream social. Break out the old Kipper Ripper, and I'll take it like a man," she promised. "Well…I mean…I'll take it like a virgin."

"I shall not relent once I start," he warned her again. 

"It's okay. I'm wet as a monsoon down there already," she assured him, as he rolled over on top of her, positioning himself.

"Wetness is not the issue, Wells. Are you quite ready?"

"Well…kiss me a little, and I will be."

Ten minutes later, Severus Snape stopped kissing her, and rammed himself home inside his newly re-virginized wife, popping her cherry with one brutal thrust, as she had requested.

"Holy fuckin' shit! Stop! Stop! That hurts like a motherfucker!" Welkin yelled at him. "Stop it, I said!" she ordered, pounding on his back as she attempted to wriggle away.

"I _did_ warn you, my sweet," Snape said, as he continued to bang her love tunnel raw, thrusting for all he was worth. "I shall try to make this as quick as possible, my love," he added. He felt a little guilty about how stimulating this was for him, but not quite guilty enough to stop thrusting.

"Jezus fuckin' Christ!" Welkin yelled in response. "I didn't think it would hurt this bad the second time around! I thought I'd be more relaxed…SHIT! SHIT!"

Welkin moaned, whimpered, and cursed her way through five more minutes of excruciating pussy pounding, and just as she was starting to feel a little better down there, the son of a bitch came.

Snape pulled out of her, and padded off to the loo. She heard water running and knew he was cleansing himself. He returned with a small purple vial of liquid, and a warm washcloth. 

"Drink your pain potion," he instructed, popping the stopper and handing it to her, as he swabbed the blood of her most recent deflowering from her thighs with the soft warm cloth. 

Welkin drank the potion in one gulp, and lay back gratefully as he cleaned her. Okay…so maybe he wasn't such a complete son of a bitch after all. And he _had_ warned her. But why had she ever thought this would be a good idea? She had forgotten how painful it was the first time around. She had half a mind to Owl that damn writer and tell her that there was no fucking way that Hyacinth found her deflowering by Iain MacCoinnich in _any way_ pleasurable! That author was a menace to witchkind, foisting that blatantly false bullshit onto her unsuspecting readers as romance! 

Welkin flinched a little as Severus gently passed the warm washcloth between her legs and up the length of her sore slit to cleanse and soothe her. 

"Is that better, my pet?" Severus asked.

"It's not quite as sore. I think the potion's already taking affect. Come back to bed and lie with me, won't you?"

Severus sent the washcloth floating back to the loo, and got into bed, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly. 

"Why would you think that I would wish this of you," Severus asked her, regarding her still somewhat tear-stained face seriously.

"Well…it's just that you always act so jealous of other men. And you're always asking me about them, and what I did with them. I guess I thought if you could be the first, maybe you wouldn't keep asking me about it. Stupid, huh?" Welkin concluded. "I guess I was wrong."

"Quite," he agreed with her. Was she saying that this was partly his fault? He lay there considering the ramifications of that.

For once, Welkin wasn't insulted by his blunt criticism. It really had been stupid and crazy of her to think it might make a difference in the way he behaved.

They lay quietly for several minutes, as Welkin felt the pain ebb away. 

"Wells?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for your gift. I cannot promise you that I shall never exhibit jealousy of you…but I shall certainly try not to more often," Severus informed her solemnly. "I trust your love for me. I do not wish you to injure yourself in attempting to please me. I shall work on my…problem."

"Thank you, Sevvy," Welkin said softly. A little pain for a lot of gain was not such a bad trade-off. If it got him to promise to try to curb his jealousy of her a bit, maybe she wasn't so crazy to do it after all.

* * *


	53. The Flobberworm and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape gives Welkin a failing grade and detention. Welkin asks for Hermione's help to impress Severus, and they discuss Julien. Ron frets about Welkin's bad influence on Hermione.

* * *

Welkin sat at her desk fidgeting as Snape read her essay with overzealous thoroughness. It was bad enough having to research the boring thing in the library, and then labor over writing it with an archaic quill pen on stiff parchment that kept rolling up on her while she was trying to write. Now she had to sit through the ordeal of him grading it as well. 

She knew it wasn't that good of a paper, and she had tried to spice it up a little, but the subject just didn't excite her imagination, and that made it difficult for her to write about it. Why couldn’t Severus have given her something more interesting and maybe just a little bit sexy to write about, instead of saddling her with the dry topic of _‘Vital uses of Flobberworm mucus as a thickening agent in potions making’?_ Even Desiree Bitte, widely esteemed by the witchy crowd for her gifted writing of romanticized wizarding smut, couldn’t have managed to turn that subject into something interesting!

Welkin watched Severus grimace and slash at her writing again, with what seemed to her like an overabundance of cruel glee.

Snape read some more, arched a dark eyebrow, and slashed brutally at the parchment again, scribbling another precise notation in the margin to denote his deduction of additional points. If he didn't stop soon, there wouldn't be any points left to take away! 

Welkin raised herself and leaned forward in her seat, craning her neck at him anxiously, trying to see what section of her paper that he was on now. Pretty soon he should be getting to the special part she’d written just for him, midway through the snore-inducing narrative she’d been forced to turn in to him because she ran out of time. That would put a smile back on his face, instead of that sour look he’d been wearing ever since he began reading. He would forget about the paper and focus on her instead, and maybe want to take a ‘break’ and evaluate other things for awhile.

Severus suddenly paused as he carefully reread the sentence she had inserted. He lifted his eyes to hers, and instead of smiling at her and asking her to join him at the desk, he rolled them at her in exasperation. 

“Really, Welkin,” he chided, heartlessly marking through the passage she had been so sure would earn her extra credit with him, in one way or another. He scrawled something at the top of the parchment scroll and put down his quill. “I have no need to read further,” he announced abruptly.

“What do you mean?” Welkin asked, rising from her seat and walking over to his desk directly without bothering to ask his permission. 

“This is what I mean,” he replied, tossing her essay onto the desk in front of her, where it lay looking as limp and defeated as Welkin suddenly felt. It was now branded with a final grade, as well as his merciless slash marks and notations.

“You _failed_ me?!” Welkin exclaimed in shock, staring at the scarlet letter of shame on her paper. She didn’t always get perfect marks, but nobody had ever actually failed her before. 

“How could you do that? You haven’t even read the whole thing yet?! That's not fair!” She continued to stare at him in disbelief. “Technically, you shouldn’t even be teaching me Potions anymore. You teach Defense Against the Dark Arts now,” she pointed out.

“I got as far as your special personal observation, and I decided I could not proceed any further. We both know there is no point in it, don't we? And you know very well that Albus agreed with me that it was best that you continue your lessons with me instead of Slughorn, as you appear to have some unexplained issues with him. Frankly, Welkin, I am exceedingly disappointed in both your performance and your attitude about this assignment. You are capable of excellent work when you apply yourself. This essay is not up to either my high standards or your own, and it is not even half the length that I requested,” Snape scolded her. 

“You know I don’t do my best work when you give me something like this to work with. It was too _boring_ , and that’s as long as it needed to be. I like to cut to the chase, not crap on and on about things that don’t matter. I think it’s concise and to the point. It’s like the CliffsNotes of Flobberworm mucus,” she told him argumentatively.

“Be it cliffs, caves, or the Forbidden Forest, the location where you took your notes for this abysmal report is of no interest to me,” Snape informed her. 

He obviously wasn’t familiar with the Muggle concept of CliffsNotes, Welkin thought, briefly amused at him before he brought her back to reality with his next statement. 

“It is completely unacceptable work, and you will redo it properly. It should be of the proper length, you should completely document your somewhat fanciful and extravagant claims concerning the substance in question, and you should refrain from inserting sexually incendiary personal notes to me,” he instructed primly. 

“For your further edification, Welkin, I might also note that Flobberworms do not intentionally _‘lovingly stroke their chosen partner's anterior segments in excited anticipation of coitus during mating season to elicit the flow of mucus from each others' pores’._ That was a complete fabrication on your part. This is meant to be an informative essay, not an exercise in creative writing.”

Snape stood and rounded his desk as he informed her of her shortcomings. Coming to a halt in front of her, he clasped his hands behind his back as he peered down his large, hooked, and insufferably superior nose at her. 

“You didn’t like my personal note I wrote to you?” Welkin asked, frowning. She already knew the answer, based on his histrionic eye-rolling performance earlier. What a fucking ham! It really bothered her that he hadn't liked at least that part of it. It had been the only part that she had looked forward to him reading and responding to. That and the Flobberworm sex part, which she thought was funny, but he also hadn’t fully appreciated.

“It is not that I did not appreciate the sentiment involved, Welkin, but I hardly think it was appropriate to insert _‘my teacher is a hot piece of wizard arse’_ into the middle of a serious academic discussion of the effect of varying levels of viscosity of Flobberworm mucus on thickening times of potions,” Snape advised her pompously. 

“I thought it was funny and sexy. It’s not like anybody else was going to see it,” Welkin complained. “Sometimes you just have no sense of humor. It was a compliment, Severus. You know… a _compliment_ …one of those things you hardly ever get from anybody else around here, except from me?”

“I am well aware of my lack of popularity, thank you. You do not need to keep reminding me,” Snape countered, his annoyance with her argumentative attitude starting to show a little more.

“Your attempt to sidetrack me from my analysis of your paper with your self-serving, albeit flattering appraisal of my posterior has also been duly noted. There is a time and a place for your sexual flirtations, Welkin, and your homework is not the proper venue. If you need inspiration to rewrite your essay, perhaps you should read Miss Granger’s excellent paper on exactly the same subject, which she wrote several years ago. It was a bit verbose, but quite well-done for a first year student. I shall look up a copy of it for you to reference if you like.”

That was the last straw. “Don’t you… fucking… dare,” Welkin warned slowly and deliberately, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“What are you trying to prove, Severus? That you’re not playing favorites with me because I’m your wife? Everybody knows that you do that all the time with the other Slytherins. Or do you just think I can’t write a proper paper without help from somebody? How _dare_ you lecture me about there being a time and a place for sex!” she added. “That’s a fucking laugh riot, coming from you, when you’re always the one pulling me into some alcove or behind a bush and whipping your wand out! About the only place left we haven’t done it is Albus Dumbledore’s office!” 

Actually, they _had_ done it there after their big fight on their first Valentine’s Day evening together, but Welkin didn’t really count that time. Albus sort of sanctioned it by discreetly leaving to go to bed, and telling Severus to lock up when they were finished reconciling. They had 'reconciled' all over his desk that night.

Snape belatedly realized he probably shouldn’t have touted Hermione Granger as a shining academic example to Welkin, considering that the silly girl had flung herself at him so enthusiastically last year, and Welkin had thought he was the instigator of the episode. She had separated from him and it had been the worst three days of his married life.

Welkin was now glaring at him with a truly frightening intensity.

“If you like Hermione Granger’s work so much better, get _her_ to write the damn boring thing for you! I’m sure she’d just cream her eager little Gryffindor panties if you asked her to write about Flobberworm mucus! It’s probably one of her favorite subjects… along with about seven million others she’s read all about!” 

For dramatic emphasis, Welkin tore her maligned essay into several large, ragged pieces and flung them into the air. They fluttered down like confetti, to land on the floor at his feet. 

“No sense in keeping _that_ , since it’s so damn pathetic. Besides, where would you find the room to keep it, since your files are obviously just bulging with extra copies of the intellectually brilliant Hermione Granger’s treatises on Flobberworms, and Hinkypunks, and everything else in the fucking Wizarding World that bores the shit out of me!” 

“Welkin, that is not what I meant to imply, and you are well aware of that. You are quite intellectually capable, unlike many of the dunderheads I am forced to attempt to teach. Do not try my patience by your willful misunderstanding of my meaning,” Snape warned. “You will cease this acrimony at once, and pick that mess up immediately.”

“Like hell I will! Get Hermione to pick it up! She’s probably better at that too!” 

Why, oh why, hadn't she just shut up and done as Severus told her to do and rewrote the damn thing without complaint? Just this once would it have killed her? She hated it when he got so upset with her, but she couldn't seem to keep herself from goading him when he hurt her feelings, sometimes even if she knew it wasn't intentional. She was wrong, and he was right in this case, and she knew it. But he had hurt her feelings when he didn't respond properly to the compliment she'd written for him, and the fact that he was right didn't matter.

“Silence! No more of this! You will obey my authority as your teacher! I will have no more of your insolence to me!” Severus shouted at her. He was finally at the end of his patience with her childish temper tantrum over her grade, so he promptly began to throw one of his own as a counterbalance. 

“Fuck you, and the Flobberworm you rode in on!” Welkin shouted back, poking him in the chest with her index finger several times for emphasis.

“Detention! Eight o’clock! Here in my office! This class is at an end, and I shall not discuss it further!” Snape roared at her. 

He stalked out without a backward glance, and slammed the door on her, heading for what he hoped would be the comparative calm of the teachers' staffroom.

Welkin stood staring at the door, torn between the twin urges of running after him to beg his forgiveness for being so fresh with him, and running after him to kick his infuriating wizard 'arse' for being so mean to her. Why did he have to be so damn stubborn all the time?!

* * *

"Why does she have to be so damnably stubborn about everything?!" Severus blurted out to Albus. “She expects me to be able to read her every mood, just because she is my wife!”

Snape had no sooner seated himself by the fireplace in the staffroom, quietly fuming to himself about Welkin's unreasonable expectations of him, then Albus had arrived, intent on his afternoon tea and biscuits. Inviting Severus to join him in the refreshments that had been laid out by the Hogwarts house-elves, Dumbledore had soon convinced him to reveal what was causing his foul mood.

"That is part of her charm, my boy, is it not?" Albus asked, taking a sip from his teacup. "If she were more manageable, she would not be Welkin, and she would not be the woman you love."

Albus had seen this pattern quite often where Welkin and Severus were involved, and he couldn't bring himself to be too concerned about it now that the issue of the Patronus had been resolved to his satisfaction. The outcome of their tiffs was always the same, after all. As long as they were discreet about it, they could stage their inevitable reconciliation wherever they pleased. More than likely it would be in Snape's office during Welkin's scheduled detention tonight, he assumed. 

"Yeeeesss... that is true," Snape admitted with a nasally drawl. His Welkin's stubborn nature and their many contentious debates and arguments were a part of what he loved about her, even if it was annoying at times. It was annoying, but it was also quite invigorating, and usually led to an intense sexual interlude when they resolved their disagreement. Sometimes he relented. Sometimes she did. More often, they both did. 

"You should never have compared her to another witch, Severus. That was a mistake. Feminine sensibilities are quite delicate in that respect, regardless of how innocent the comparison," Albus advised. "And I daresay that she was expecting quite a different response to whatever personal message you say she interjected into her essay. That was also a misstep on your part."

"It appears I am always making missteps where she is concerned," Snape said glumly. 

At that moment, with his head down, he closely resembled the somewhat awkward boy that Dumbledore had known more than a decade ago. How well he had turned out after all, Albus thought proudly.

"Cheer up, my boy! You must be doing something right, judging by the number of times I happened upon you two last month in some secluded alcove here at Hogwarts. There was scarcely room for a sunbeam to pass between you two, from what I observed," Albus chuckled.

Snape looked up at Albus, and for a second, the elderly wizard thought he might have seen the shadow of a blush pass over the younger man's sallow face. How delightful, he thought. Severus seemed to be aging backwards in these past two years, which was as it should be, since he had missed out on so much that should have been his when he was younger.

"Another biscuit?" he asked Severus brightly, with a twinkle in his eye, offering him the plate again.

* * *

This wasn't going to be easy to do, not by a long shot.

Welkin swallowed her pride, and forced herself to walk up to the table where Hermione Granger sat, surrounded by musty-smelling library books and parchment, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Hermione?" Welkin said quietly, announcing her presence to the girl, who looked up and then looked even more startled when she saw who it was.

"Yes?" Hermione said hesitantly, with a sense of deja vu. Hadn't she been approached like this before? By a different Snape? With disastrous results? 

"I was wondering if you could help me with an essay I need to write on Flobberworms?" Welkin asked. "I really screwed mine up, and Severus says I have to do it again. I thought you might be able to give me some pointers, because he speaks really highly of your work," Welkin admitted truthfully. To Welkin's surprise, her pride went down a lot easier with the second swallow.

"Help? You want my help?" Hermione asked, uncertain she’d heard correctly. Nobody ever asked her for help with their homework. She always tried to volunteer it, but nobody ever took her up on the offer. Sometimes they even seemed insulted. That it should be Professor Snape's wife who was asking her now was almost surreal. Professor Snape spoke highly of her work? Could that be true? Hermione felt a little thrill of accomplishment that Snape had noticed her dedication to her magical studies, and actually remarked on it to someone.

"If you're too busy, that's okay. I understand. I'll muddle through it somehow on my own," Welkin said. "It's just that you could probably cut down on my research time if you already knew some interesting things about Flobberworms that you could pass along to me."

"Oh, no! I have lots of time. Sit down. I know quite a bit about Flobberworms, actually. They’re really fascinating creatures!" 

Hermione excitedly cleared the overflow of books from the seat next to her.

"Uh, yes," Welkin agreed, sinking weakly into the seat next to Hermione. "Absolutely fascinating," she repeated in a monotone. _What kind of a girl thought Flobberworms were fascinating?_ Welkin wondered with a bit of alarm. Hermione was definitely in need of some serious talking to about what life was really all about.

"It's a common misconception that the Flobberworm, or _Annelida Desidiosus_ , is completely vegetarian, and rather lazy, but I've read in _Chaveroble's Compendium of Segmented_..." Hermione began enthusiastically.

Nearly an hour later, Welkin's eyes unglazed, and she had a copious number of very helpful notes, taken during Hermione's impromptu lecture, that would certainly be helpful in writing her new essay to impress Severus with.

"Thanks, Hermione," Welkin said. "You really know your Flobberworms, girlfriend!" she enthused. "I'm going to knock Severus's socks off with my new paper!"

"You're welcome, Mrs. Snape," Hermione replied, blushing slightly.

"Welkin... it's just Welkin," Welkin urged her yet again. 

"Welkin," Hermione repeated politely.

"Hey... how would you like to take a break from studying and go have some of that disgusting pumpkin juice with me, if we can’t find something better," Welkin offered. "I'll help you put up your books." 

Hermione looked like she might be tempted, but she hesitated, reluctant to abandon her studies.

"We could talk about Jul-i-en," Welkin coaxed.

"You... you... know about me and _Julien?_ " Hermione asked, lowering her voice to whisper his name.

"Not for certain, I didn't... not until just now," Welkin grinned. "But I suspected it. That Owl that kept swooping over to your table at mealtime looked _awfully familiar_ , and Julien's been terribly distracted at work lately... in a happy sort of way, I mean."

"You won't tell anybody, will you?" Hermione pleaded anxiously. "I don't want anybody else to know!"

"Of course not. It's your business and nobody else's. It's your life. Just be careful. With your body, _and_ with your heart," Welkin warned, regarding her intently. To her surprise, she was feeling a little protective of the girl, who seemed a bit on the naïve side where sex and romance was concerned. "Do you mind my asking just how serious this is between you?"

"I think I might be… in love with him," Hermione said. "Shouldn't I be sure of that though, without needing to think about it so much?" 

It would be nice to have somebody at Hogwarts that she could finally confide in about Julien, and ask about things like that, Hermione thought. Especially someone like Welkin, who was so much in love herself, and was older and seemed to have had more than her share of experience in such matters. She didn’t seem like the type who would judge her about it. Hermione just didn't want other people to find out. She particularly didn’t want Ron to find out. She hadn't been able to confide in Ginny for that reason. Ginny wouldn't understand if it affected her brother in any way. Hermione still loved Ron as a friend, and she didn't want to hurt him if she could help it, or lose his friendship, but she didn't want to give up Julien either. Julien treated her like a woman, not a little girl. He paid attention to her feelings, and made her feel special.

"Promise me that you won't tell anybody... not even Professor Snape!" Hermione pressed.

"I can't promise you that, Hermione. I don't keep things from Severus. But I promise I won't mention it unless he asks me about it," Welkin vowed. She stood up and started helping the worried girl put away her books. "Anyway, don't you think it'll be a lot more fun talking to me about Julien than about Flobberworms? He's a lot sexier. Unless you're another Flobberworm, I suppose."

Welkin Snape had a very odd way of looking at things sometimes. But she always seemed self-confident and very content with herself and the way she was, no matter what anybody else thought about it. She reminded Hermione a little bit of Luna Lovegood in that way.

* * *

“I did not know if I would see you here tonight,” Snape said with a hint of relief in his voice as Welkin took her seat next to him for supper, depositing Sully in her lap.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Welkin said nonchalantly. “Just because we’re fighting, it doesn’t mean I’m going to avoid you, or stop talking to you. I happen to love you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I had noticed,” he replied, sounding a little humbled.

Snape slid something across the tablecloth towards her. She glanced down at her essay, which he had magically restored from the pieces she had torn it into. Not only was it whole again, but his markings on it were gone, and her grade had been changed to something much better.

“I do not wish to fight with you. There will be no detention,” he informed her without further explanation. Sully spied the paper and immediately tried to reach across the table to grasp it. 

“I’m not mad anymore, and I don’t want to fight either. But my paper really wasn’t very good, and I’m writing another. It’ll be ready by the time I serve my detention tonight, as scheduled. I deserve detention for being a butthead and giving you a hard time about my grade, and I don’t want to be treated any differently than your other students,” Welkin insisted. She handed Sully a juicy strip of the chicken from her plate to distract him. He sat still again, with the chicken tightly clasped in his fist, chewing on it happily with his new baby teeth. 

Snape started to protest, but thought better of it. If she insisted on serving detention, perhaps he could at least make it an interesting one for her, as well as himself. 

“As you wish,” Snape said, withdrawing her parchment from the table and returning it to his pocket. “How did you manage to write a new essay so quickly, might I ask?” 

“Hermione gave me help with some of the details about that incredibly fascinating subject you assigned me. I’ve never seen anybody quite so happy to discuss mucus,” Welkin said with a giggle.

“You consulted… Miss Granger?” Snape repeated hesitantly, Albus’s warning about feminine sensitivities still fresh in his mind.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re the one who recommended her,” Welkin shrugged, passing their son to him, since Sully was now finished with his chicken, and struggling to reach Severus’s tempting bowl of soup. 

“This child does nothing but eat,” Snape observed somewhat disapprovingly. The disquieting image of Ronald Weasley shoveling massive amounts of food into his mouth at every meal flashed through Snape’s mind. He nevertheless produced another spoon, and ladled a bit of his green lentil soup into Sully’s open mouth. Sully swallowed, smacked his lips approvingly, and gave a little burp, before opening his mouth wide again like a baby bird waiting for more.

Since his soup had been commandeered by Sully, Welkin solicitously offered Severus a piece of her chicken with her fingers. He glanced around the Great Hall hesitantly, reluctant to be seen being catered to by her in this way.

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s watching us. They’re all too busy talking,” Welkin encouraged him.

Severus hungrily devoured the succulent morsel Welkin offered him, while giving her a look that spoke to her plainly of another type of appetite which needed filling.

* * *

“Disgusting, is what it is,” Ron huffed. “Her fussing over that greasy old git at the head table like he’s so special, and him looking at her like a lovesick…”

“Oh, shut up, Ron! Don’t be such a prat. I think it’s romantic,” Hermione told him. “Professor Snape’s hair hasn’t been greasy for the past two years, not that you would ever notice. _You_ never notice anything… even if it’s right in front of you. What if she _does_ think he’s special, and fusses over him a little? What’s it to you? They’re married, and it’s none of your… none of your… _bleeding_ business!”

“Hermione!” Ron squeaked at her in surprise at her unexpected use of profanity.

Hermione looked absolutely pleased with herself at having shocked him with her unladylike expletive. Ron had seen her come flouncing into the Great Hall earlier this afternoon with Welkin Snape, whispering together, thick as thieves. He knew exactly who was responsible for this change in Hermione. Everybody knew that Snape's wife cursed worse than Argus Filch and Peeves combined. Maybe Welkin’s influence was even responsible for those bloody Owls that Hermione kept getting from some mysterious bloke who probably just wanted to get into her knickers! 

Welkin Snape was a bad influence on Hermione, that’s what she was! He had half a mind to talk to Dumbledore about it!

Ron sat silently fuming at Snape and Welkin as he continued to monitor their disgraceful public display.

* * *


	54. Detention Times Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus finds a clever way to give Welkin her gangbang fantasy.

* * *

Snape counted the seconds in his head, his hand hovering over the smoking mixture in the cup. Fifty-two... fifty-three... fifty-four. 

He let the dry scrapings of skin, five drops of blood, and five dark pubic hairs fall into the vessel so that they sizzled and dissolved into the mixture at precisely fifty-five seconds, no more and no less. The mixture promptly swirled and changed to a vivid shade of chartreuse. Hopefully it would taste better than it looked. He lifted the cup, raised it to his thin lips, and drained it to the last disgusting drop, his hopes unrealized as to the taste being in the least bit palatable.

Never mind the taste. What mattered was the effect. The quivering in his stomach and one sharp jabbing pain inside announced the beginning of the transformation process to him. All that was left was for him to speak the proper words. 

"Geminio Corporis!"

Snape grasped the edge of the desk and his knuckles went white as the jabbing pain was joined by another unpleasant sensation, like something was trying to escape from inside him, stretching at his skin from the inside out.

"Quinque Geminio...Corporis!" he gasped again before he fell to the floor.

* * *

"It's all in the hips. Keep your upper body straight, but loosen your hips," Welkin instructed, rotating her own hips in a suggestive rolling motion in illustration. "Now, you all do it." 

She walked down the line of her unofficial students like a drill sergeant, judging their style with the dance movements she'd been teaching them. It was Hermione who had asked her for this lesson in Muggle dance moves, but the others, predictably, had decided to come along for the ride.

" _Clowns to the left of me... jokers to the right... here I am... stuck in the middle with you_ ," she sang in time to the _Stealers Wheel_ tune that was playing.

"That's good, Hermione... Ginny... Luna, stop waving your arms around so much... Ron, your knees are too stiff, loosen up... Harry..." She shook her head at him. "I just really don't know what to say about that personal interpretation of yours. Why don't you just take a little break?"

That boy might be the _Chosen One_ , but he was absolutely spastic when it came to dancing. 

She moved on to Neville, who she had to admit, was doing better than any of them. "Ooooohhh...Neville! If I weren't a happily married woman!" she teased. "Great hip action!" she crooned the compliment at him, as Harry left the line and took a seat next to Snape's son, who was observing the goings on solemnly from an upright position in his black pram. 

Welkin had initially chosen something a lot more cheerful in a pram for Sully, but Severus had wanted the more severe black. It looked a lot like the pram from _Rosemary’s Baby_ to Welkin, which she had felt obliged to tease him about, naturally, but she had decided that if Severus liked the more conservative look, it was fine with her. Sully didn’t care, and after all… the baby really _did_ have his father’s eyes, she had quoted her favorite line from the movie to herself as Severus paid for their purchase.

Sully turned his head and gave him the once-over, as Harry sat down on the edge of the bench next to him. 

"Ully!" he finally announced to him loudly. 

Harry tried to ignore him, but Sullivan Severus Snape was his father's son, and was having none of that. 

"Ully... Nape!" he announced again more firmly, adding his last name. He squealed insistently, smacking Harry on his leg with his hand to assure his attentiveness. 

When Harry turned to look at him again, Sully held out his well-worn stuffed toy. "Nake?" he offered. Apparently, unlike his father, the Snape baby was a lot more sociable, and had a generous streak. 

Harry took the proffered toy from him. "Thanks... Sully." He smiled at him. Sullivan Snape's dark hair was about as messy as Harry's was. Harry observed that he had Snape's intense dark eyes. Fortunately, they weren't as cold and cruel as his father's were, and he hadn't learned to glare at him with them, or smirk unpleasantly at Harry yet, as his father always did. 

Harry realized that the baby couldn't help it if his father was an evil, disgusting, biased, arsehole whose sole reason for living, other than his wife, seemed to be to torment Harry and his friends. It was Welkin's fault for being deluded enough to let Snape sleep with her and get her pregnant in the first place. 

Harry supposed he would never, ever be able to fathom what it was that Welkin saw in Snape that made her so loyal to him. She was always subtly trying to convince him that he was wrong about Snape. Love really _was_ blind, he guessed. 

Or maybe Ron was right about it in the beginning, and maybe Snape really did have her under some kind of a spell. Otherwise, he couldn't imagine any woman in her right mind _ever_ letting that pompous twit touch them. Maybe that was it. She wasn’t in her right mind. She certainly acted that way sometimes. Still, Sully Snape was lucky to have his mother with him, Harry thought, even if she _was_ slightly insane. He envied him for that, no matter who his father was.

Harry would have been even more disgusted with Sully’s mother if he'd known just how much Welkin actually did enjoy being touched by Severus Snape, of her own free will and volition. And he would have died of embarrassment if he'd known exactly what wanton fleshly treat that Snape had in mind for her tonight, deep in the dank bowels of the dungeons, in the Hogwarts Potions Lab.

* * *

"Here's my new paper. It's a lot more of what you wanted, I think. It’s very dry and pedantic,” Welkin announced cheerfully. Snape pocketed it without comment. 

“I'm serving detention in the Potions Lab? Not your office?" Welkin repeated his announcement. "What's wrong with your office? You don’t have that mold problem again, do you? Albus needs to give you a healthier work space. I don’t know _what_ he’s thinking, putting your health at risk like that."

"I am constantly under scrutiny by the Dark Lord, Welkin. Mold is the least of my worries, do you not think? Let us say your detention will begin in the Potions Lab," Snape told her. "It may continue elsewhere," he said cryptically, as they reached the entrance. 

He opened the door and ushered her into the darkened room. To his annoyance, there were students at one of the lab tables at this late hour.

"What are you doing here? Dimswitty, isn't it?" He remembered him from his Potions class last year.

Even if that wasn’t his name it was an appropriate description of the student in question, Snape thought sourly: dim and lacking in wits. The boy couldn’t seem to finish even one potion last year without spilling it or having it expel itself forcefully from his cauldron like an erupting volcano. Snape had begun to suspect that he might be some distant relation of Neville Longbottom’s. 

Snape narrowed his eyes at the unfortunate boy and his female companion. 

"Duh...Duh...Dunsworthy, sir!" he stuttered, jumping to his feet guiltily, as the girl hastily rearranged her skirt, her head down, blushing furiously. 

"Gryffindor, at any rate,” Snape observed disdainfully. “Why am I not surprised? Five points each from Gryffindor for not having the common sense to use the bushes as all of the other students do to attempt to elude detection," Snape said. "Off with you, then."

Not wanting to appear a total coward in front of his girlfriend, Dunsworthy started to protest, but thought better of it as Snape barked loudly at them. "Are you deaf? Out! Out, I said!"

They both scrambled for the door as Welkin stood pressing her lips together, trying not to laugh. They probably had thought it was safe to meet down here now that Snape was no longer Potions instructor, and Slughorn was hardly ever found here outside of his classes.

"Defigo," Snape uttered the Locking Spell after them, and Welkin heard the lock click securely.

She looked up at him as he advanced on her in the dimness. 

"Now, we shan't be disturbed again. Are you ready to begin your detention?" he asked with deceptive mildness. He raised the index finger of his right hand, and touched her bottom lip, moving it back and forth experimentally. 

"I suppose you locking the door means you have something special in mind," Welkin said, and smiled at him, not looking in the least bit worried. Whatever it was, she could handle it, she thought confidently. 

She knew some of the older female students probably had fantasies about serving detention with Professor Snape. Whatever they thought they knew about what he would really be like as a lover, she doubted they would have been able to handle the reality if it had ever actually been presented to them. She was a grown woman, with a reasonable amount of sexual experience, and she found it a bit difficult to handle him at times. 

They didn't know what he was really like in a situation like this. He was not only voracious, he was both rough and unrelenting, two sexual qualities that Welkin responded to quite well most of the time, thankfully. Oh, she was all for the occasional hearts and flowers treatment too, but give her a good, old-fashioned pounding like Severus routinely dished out, and she was a very happy and contented woman.

Snape pulled her to him to kiss her roughly as a preamble to whatever he had planned for her. Welkin flung her arms around his neck, and pressed herself against him as closely as possible, molding her softness to his hardness. He raised his other hand and pointed. She heard another click and, out of the corner of her eye, saw movement from one of the other doors inside the room.

Turning her away from him so that she could see the surprise he had in store for her, he pressed her back against his body, and wrapped his left arm around her throat to hold her in place. Five shadowy figures came through the doorway which had swung open, admitted from the room where they had been waiting. It wasn't until they stepped forward into the center of the room into stronger light that Welkin gave a little gasp of recognition.

Standing before her were five thin, pale men. Or rather, standing before her were four grown men and a young boy, who looked no more than eighteen or nineteen. Welkin observed that all of them were naked, all of them were in various stages of sexual arousal, and all of them were smirking at her with familiarity, as if they knew her. Most unsettling of all, all of them were the spitting image of her Severus!

"Your gangbang fantasy, Miss Cooper," Snape whispered into her soft hair, brushing his lips against her. He raised his right hand again and grasped the neckline of her blouse, ripping it open to the waist, exposing her breasts to them, barely encased by the diaphanous fabric of her thin black spiderweb design bra. 

Welkin's pulse began to race as she saw all of the Snapes watching her hungrily with glittering eyes, eager for him to speak the words for them to begin. 

Severus had said that this was one fantasy he could never allow her, because he never wished to share her with another man. It looked like the clever bastard had found a way to provide it to her after all, by somehow duplicating himself.

"But, how?" she asked.

"You are not the only one who has access to the Hogwarts Library Restricted Section, Welkin," he whispered. "Six cocks for you, my pet, just as you have imagined. And you often say to me that you wish that you had known me when I was younger. I have also provided that opportunity for you. But enough talk... gentlemen... would you care to examine your slut for the evening?" he addressed the other Snapes.

Like a hoard of rampaging Mongols intent on pillaging her, they descended on her, their hands suddenly everywhere at once, wordlessly stroking and examining her body appreciatively as he held her in place to allow them only this limited access to her in the beginning. 

"Do you not find Miss Cooper a bit...overdressed this evening?" he asked slyly. 

They were taking their cues from him, obviously, as that was the signal for them to begin removing her clothing. Instead of using magic, they did it the Muggle way, ripping and shredding the various articles until her body was completely exposed to them, and her nipples rose to a stiff point in the cool air of the dungeons. 

Her torn clothing littered the floor. They would have to remember to clear that later, she thought. Otherwise, some house-elves were going to be quite scandalized.

Two warm, wet mouths closed over her nipples, sucking and licking hungrily. Multiple long-fingered hands moved over her ass and thighs, alternately stroking and squeezing. Fingers teased at her slit, and then a tongue, tasting and probing. Welkin closed her eyes and moaned. So many hands and so much sensation at once. It made her ache.

"You see how much she enjoys her punishment for her insolence to me," Snape told them. "What a sweet little whore... see how eager she is for your many cocks to invade her. Taste how wet she is. Hear how prettily she moans for more of your attentions."

Welkin undulated against the tongue that was tickling her clit and felt first one finger, then two sink deep inside her. She could hear the squishy sounds of her wetness as one of the Snapes plunged his fingers into her pussy faster and faster. Someone's thumb teased between the cleft of her butt cheeks, spreading the clear, viscous wetness from between her legs to her nether entrance, before it sank inside her as well. 

"Pleasepleaseplease," she moaned again. 

"Please, indeed. Are you ready to be fucked like the slut that you are?" Snape asked bluntly. "Who do you want first? And where. This is the only time you will be able to choose. After this, what we choose to do to you, and where we choose to do it will be quite beyond your control. Do you understand, and agree? If you do not truly want this, you must say so now. Who do you wish to fuck you first?"

"You, Severus," she breathed. "I want you first. I don't care what you do after that."

"Where do you want me?" he asked, sounding pleased at her choice. 

"In my pussy, please." She leaned her head back against his chest. 

She felt herself lifted then by many strong arms and carried to one of the longer lab tables, which had been cleared of all potions paraphernalia in anticipation of her arrival this evening. They laid her down surprisingly gently, and her husband climbed atop her, still fully clothed. He unzipped himself and she reached to help him, but he pushed her questing hand away. 

Welkin could see the others moving to encircle the table, fingering and stroking themselves, their eyes on her as Severus sank his cock inside her and began to fuck her, her legs rising to lock around his hips as he filled her over and over again. 

A minute later, the youngest of the Snapes, unable to contain himself as well as the rest, groaned loudly as he came, spending himself with a force that sent his cum shooting across the side of her face, and dribbling down into her hair and onto the table. She turned her head in his direction to smile at him and wink, causing him to blush a bright red shade. He was just as shy as she had pictured him at that age, despite the Dark Mark branded on his left arm. Shy, like she had been, once upon a time.

Her hips rose off the table to meet Snape's thrusts. She knew Severus was close to the edge because of his labored breathing. Supporting himself above her by his arms on either side of her, denying her the closeness of his body, he gave several more shallow thrusts and plunged into her as deeply as possible, his eyes locking with hers. She felt his cock quiver and leap inside her as he spent himself, but oddly, not one sound came from him during his orgasm. Was he purposely restraining himself? Why?

Snape rolled away from her, and the cold air hit her again, cooling her flushed body slightly. She stretched and sighed, stroking herself between the legs and raising her hand to her lips to lick at the creamy essence of Severus he had left behind, which was now dribbling out of her slowly onto the table.

"Help her up and put her on her knees," Snape ordered. He hadn't bothered zipping himself again, and his cock dangled temptingly from the opening in his trousers, Welkin observed, as they did as he commanded. 

"Since you cannot seem to keep your insolent little mouth shut when I am instructing you in my class, Miss Cooper, perhaps gagging you will suffice," he smirked. He smacked her on the lips with his flaccid cock. "Open your mouth! Be quick about it!"

Welkin obediently opened her mouth wide, and extended her tongue a little. 

Snape nodded his head, and the other Snapes all encircled her again. A cock was immediately thrust into her mouth and she began to suck. She grasped two others in her hands and stroked them. The Snape who was immediately behind her bent down to reach around her and squeeze her breasts, milking at them as she felt his erection against the back of her neck, rubbing up and down. The young Snape, who had already regained his erection, stood behind the older one, who was now plowing his cock as far into her throat as he could go. 

"What a pretty picture," the real Snape drawled. He waved his hand and at last evaporated his own clothing with an incantation, then fell to his own knees and reached between her legs to play with her pussy. "What a pretty little suck slut. So willing and wet. But do not be so selective with that filthy mouth of yours. Suck them all, Miss Cooper," he purred. "Mustn't play favorites. That would be so unfair. If you do it properly, I am sure you will be well rewarded with a generous helping of cream for you to swallow."

Welkin began to alternate, sucking and licking at each bobbing shaft of flesh within range before allowing each to slide as far down her throat as she could manage. What she could manage and what they demanded were two different things, however. They began to hold the back of her head, forcing themselves further down her throat until she gagged and gasped for air, spittle running down her chin. 

Someone was twisting one of her nipples painfully, then he pressed the head of his cock against it. His foreskin swallowed up her nipple, clamping onto it like a hungry little mouth. He grasped her breast firmly underneath to support it and began to pump his cock against her nipple, making her breast jiggle and bounce each time he thrust at it. 

It was like this that Welkin had her first orgasm, her bottom writhing, humping herself into the fingers that had invaded her pussy, moaning with pleasure around a stiff mouthful of cock. 

The Snape fucking into her firm pillow of a breast pulled away, and she felt a little tug as his cock released her nipple and he ejaculated in several spurts, covering her tit with his jism. A hand reached out and rubbed it into her breast as if it were some soothing lotion, and the cock in her throat exploded, squirting a thick stream of the promised 'cream' down her throat.

As that cock was withdrawn, another massive swollen prick immediately took its place, stretching her lips wide with its girth. She felt her hips lifted from behind and she was propelled forward as, too impatient to wait his turn at her mouth, another stiff prick entered her now sopping wet pussy from the rear, its owner grunting with pleasure as he reamed her hard and fast, the sound of him slapping against her ass joining the gurgling issuing from her throat. Welkin pulled her head away, freeing her mouth of cock as she began to come again. 

When her shrill cries of pleasure subsided and she opened her eyes, the cock she had temporarily abandoned was placed in her hand for her to masturbate. She stroked it firmly, licking her tongue up the length of the prominent vein on the underneath and then sucking at this Snape's ballsac until he halted her, stretching her mouth open with his fingers to indicate that he wished to finish in her mouth. She continued to stroke him, angled towards her open mouth until he rewarded her with a copious load of spunk, the largest thusfar, directly on her extended tongue. She grinned and closed her mouth, swishing it around before swallowing as if she were sampling the finest of caviar. 

Her reaming from the rear was suddenly discontinued, even though that Snape had not yet come. Her labia were still twitching convulsively as she felt herself levitated and suspended in midair, facing the floor. A Snape levitated into place beneath her and impaled her pussy again. She felt someone lubricating her ass with her own juices, and then they spread her cheeks wide and pressed against the opening, thrusting themselves inside by degrees. A third Snape floated into place and grasped her hair, tugging her head up sharply so that she could see the erection approaching her. She opened her mouth and let herself be filled again. 

"Feeling contrite yet, Miss Cooper," the silky voice below her asked, even though he knew she could not answer. He reached up to tweak the nipples on her swaying breasts. It was the real Snape who was standing beneath them, and now she understood why he was the only one who spoke. Not only was he in command, he wanted her to know which one was really him. That had to be it.

"Come for us again, my perverted little pet." Snape reached up his hand and stroked at her clit as the two long, thick cocks slid smoothly in and out of her pussy and ass. "Would you like yet another prick inside one of those hot little holes of yours? Which one shall it be? Which can stretch to contain two cocks at once? Arse or cunt? I do not believe that your whore's mouth could accomodate two such large organs, do you? Perhaps we should try all three, just to be sure. Would that be agreeable to you, little slut? Since you do not favor me with an answer, I must assume that it would," he smirked up at her.

His touch, and his filthy suggestions to her in his low voice sent Welkin over the edge yet again, and she began to spasm, just as the cock between her lips went off and filled her mouth with another savory load. She swallowed convulsively and let out a long pleading wail, pleading for them to stop, and not to stop at the same time. 

Standing directly beneath them, Snape fastened his lips to the throbbing pearl between Welkin's legs and sucked at it. Her wails grew louder as her spasms continued unabated. The cock in her ass was pulled out and stroked to completion over her back, the warm cum splattering across her in splashes. The cock in her pussy exploded inside her, coaxed to completion by the contractions of her new orgasm, and the excitement of her loud cries and curses in the throes of it. 

Without pause, as soon as that slick knob which had just given her so much pleasure was withdrawn from deep inside her, another cock stroked into her in its place and its owner began to pump frantically. When this one came quickly, it was with a gasping moan of his own, and Welkin knew it must be the young Snape, whose eagerness and lack of control had given him away. She opened her eyes to confirm it and locked gaze with him. To her surprise, he leaned in and kissed her firmly, instead of tentatively, as she might have expected, splaying the fingers of his hand over her breast and squeezing rhythmically as he did. He pulled away again, and there was such raw need in those eyes that Welkin was mesmerized. She leaned her head to the side slightly to avoid his nose, and pressed her lips gently to his in response. 

As Snape withdrew his mouth from Welkin’s clit and looked up, he caught the moment between them and he stood beneath them frowning in dismay. They were not supposed to kiss her. None of them but him was supposed to have that privilege. He had been adamantly insistent about that with them. They were not to speak to her, and they were not to kiss her. His younger self had already broken the pact that had been agreed on, and Snape was highly agitated about it. Intellectually, he knew it meant nothing, yet the kiss was still quite disturbing to him.

He saw now that this was not going to work. He could not control them. He could not control himself. He should have realized it in the beginning, but he had been so caught up in wanting to give Welkin her most favored fantasy, and to prove to her that he could control his own jealousy of her, that he disregarded his own warning signs. He thought that he would be able to control his reactions to some extent, as long as Welkin’s interaction with the other Snapes was only sexual, and did not enter the realm of the emotions. 

It wasn’t until Welkin returned the kiss that the familiar panic and fear of loss washed over his reason, sweeping it away from him completely. 

_No! No! She is mine!_ His mind shouted it to himself, but his throat was suddenly so dry that no sound issued from it when he tried to voice his protests to his upstart younger self. 

She was his alone, and he could not - he _would not_ \- share her! Not even with himself! It made no sense. It was irrational even to him. Welkin had pledged herself to him alone, and he to her, and he would relinquish her to no one without a fight! She was the only good thing that he had. He could not relinquish her and be left alone again - alone with nothing but another bitter memory.

Welkin started and gave a squeal as she tumbled to the floor in the midst of a struggling pile of sweaty Snape flesh. Thankfully, they had not been floating that high, out of Severus’s recognition of her fear of heights. 

“Are you okay?” she asked the younger Snape with concern, as they all scrambled to their feet in confusion. He looked as if he had the wind knocked out of him in the fall, and was rubbing his scrawny ribcage with the arm that held the Dark Mark. 

He ignored her, staring past her, and when she looked up, she saw why. Severus was looking at him with such venom. Looking at his younger self with loathing, as if he had always been the enemy. 

“Severus?” she said hesitantly. “What is…”

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him, pushing her behind him. He faced the other Snapes, who seemed to know what was about to occur. After all, they were all him, weren’t they? Why wouldn't they know what he was feeling, and what he intended to do about it?

“Expuli Expulsum!” Snape shouted at them, and Welkin poked her head around his back to watch, as her erstwhile gangbang crew of Severuses dissolved into thin air.

“Severus, what’s…”

Snape Disapparated as Welkin stood there in shock, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. What had she done? She didn’t understand, and she needed to. If he expected her to leave him alone to let him stew in whatever had upset him, he was sadly mistaken. 

There were more than a few advantages to being Severus Snape’s wife, and this was one of them. Sometimes the rules didn’t apply to her. Welkin Disapparated too.

When she reappeared abruptly in their bedchamber, Severus was there, as she had suspected. He was sitting at his desk with his head bent and cradled in his hands. Welkin strode to his side and put her arms around him from behind, smelling strongly of sweat and sex. 

“Severus? What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” she asked him.

He turned to her and buried his head against her as she held him. 

“No. You did not, but I did. I have failed you. I broke my vow to you to try to control my jealousy. It has not even been a month and I could not contain myself. When I saw him kiss you, I was beside myself with jealousy,” he admitted. “I am ashamed of my lack of control. Please, forgive me.”

“Is that all,” Welkin said, heaving an overdone sigh of relief, largely for dramatic effect to show how insignificant his supposed offense was to her. She petted him lovingly. “You scared me. I thought maybe one of us had done something really awful.”

“You are not angry?” 

“How could I be? It’s partly my fault for kissing him. But really, he…I mean you…just looked like you needed it badly. Just one little bit of tenderness. I didn’t think about it and how you might react. I’m sorry, Severus. I should have been more sensitive,” Welkin told him. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Nor I, you,” Snape said. To her distress, a tear was rolling down his cheek. “I do not deserve your love. You have often said it of Albus, that the man has issues… but I too have many issues I need to address. I do not know if I will ever be the whole man who you deserve.”

“Don’t be stupid. _Nobody_ deserves my love. Everybody knows that I’m the greatest thing that’s happened to the Wizarding World since they invented Chocolate Frogs!” she informed him pseudo-smugly.

She hugged him and added a little more gently: “You’re as whole as you need to be, as far as I’m concerned. You don’t hear me complaining, do you? At least, not _that_ often. I’m not perfect either, you know,” she added soothingly.

“No, you most assuredly are not!” he agreed a little too quickly. Her good humor appeared to be chasing away his dejection and self-doubt, and restoring his accustomed air of pompous self-assurance.

Welkin laughed. “You really didn’t stop to think about that for very long, did you?” she teased. 

“I did not need to. Not when you state the obvious,” he goaded back gently. 

“Sevvy, do you think you might have chosen me over Lily if I’d been a student at Hogwarts around that time?” Welkin asked him suddenly.

“I do not know,” he said honestly. He pulled her into his lap at last. She had been wondering when he would. 

“I guess it doesn’t really matter. But, Sevvy?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Where exactly did you find that spell in the Restricted Section?” she asked him innocently. It might be really interesting to see how Severus reacted to five other Welkins.

* * *


	55. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin set up a blind date for Hagrid. Bella welcomes an opportunity to dispose of both Snapes when she discovers them in an ideal location.

* * *

"I wish to go back inside, Welkin. Why do you insist on loitering here in the street?" Snape asked impatiently.

Several Muggles passing the entrance of _The Leaky Cauldron_ glanced at them, nodding with perfunctory politeness.

"Because I want to give Hagrid and Lilith a little more time alone without us, so we won't be in the way while they get acquainted," Welkin explained again. "I told you that five minutes ago. Weren't you listening to me, Severus? Sometimes I think you tune me out on purpose."

"We could give them an eternity and those two are not going to be any more comfortable with one another than Peeves with the Bloody Baron," Snape said. "It is obvious to me, even if you are too stubborn to admit that your ridiculous idea of pairing them was a bad one."

"It just needs a little time for the chemistry to work," Welkin insisted. "It wasn't helping anything when you kept making all those snide remarks about that incident that Hagrid had with those blasted skoots."

"Blast-Ended Skrewts," Snape corrected her. 

"Well, whatever they're called... did you have to keep bringing it up? How is Hagrid supposed to impress her if you keep pointing out his screw-ups? How would you have liked it if somebody did that to you all the time when we were first getting to know each other?" Welkin asked. "I would have thought you were more of an idiot than I did."

"I do not fail at my endeavors," Snape asserted pridefully. "There would have been nothing for them to point out."

Welkin fixed him with a look that said she could refute that haughty pronouncement if she wanted to, but then pressed her lips together and said nothing. 

"How I ever let you convince me to set up this ludicrous doublet of a date, I shall never know," Snape groused.

"Double-date," Welkin now corrected him. "You must have been delirious with lust, as usual."

"Odd. I seem to recall that it was you thrusting those delicate little hands of yours up my nightshirt quite relentlessly last night. I was perfectly content to read," he claimed.

"Always did like those nightshirts of yours. Easy access." Welkin folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "I didn't see you shrinking away from me and asking me to stop. Anyway, I was just trying to keep my hands warm. It's cold in those dungeons. Remember the marriage contract? I think that part about worshipping me with your body entitles me to share the heat generated by those enormous balls of yours." 

Welkin turned to look through the doorway, saw that Lilith had finally removed her black leather jacket in the crowded and overly warm interior of the pub, and Hagrid was placing it on the back of her chair for her. At least that was a good sign. Lilith no longer looked like she was about to escape through the nearest exit to try to ditch him.

She turned back to Severus and regarded his solemn face as he shifted from foot to foot on the pavement. The way he was squirming, he looked like he was overdue for the loo.

"I know you're bored and need a piss, Severus, but just a little bit longer, please?" Welkin pleaded for his patience, even though she was much more bored than he was. She reached out and threaded her fingers through his, tickling the palm of his hand with her thumb, stroking it back and forth. 

"Five more minutes, not one second more, and then we must return to our seats, Welkin. After I return from the loo, if he has not yet managed to speak to her about something she finds remotely interesting, we are leaving. I do not intend to waste the entire evening here listening to him struggle through this travesty of a date when we could be at home in bed," he said.

"But it's only seven o'clock. What are we anyway, farmers? Who goes to bed at..." 

Welkin trailed off with a grin as she realized what he was suggesting. "Oh!" she said, grinning broader. 

Welkin wrapped her arm around one of his. "Those Blast-Ended Skrewts got you all hot and bothered, have they?" she teased. Sex was the one thing they always seemed to see eye-to-eye on.

She was just about to kiss him when a large mass cast a shadow over them from the doorway.

Hagrid cleared his throat discreetly. "If yeh don' mind, Lilith and I will be leavin' now. She's goin' ter show me 'er collection." He blushed slightly.

"Collection?" Snape said curiously. 

Lilith turned her back to them and dropped her jacket low enough for them to see the beginning of a beautifully rendered and colorful dragon tattoo starting at her neck and disappearing beneath the low chemise she was wearing. Apparently it covered her entire back.

As Welkin looked at it she suddenly shivered, but she didn't know why and shrugged it off as a chill from the wind that was stirring tonight.

"Hagrid noticed my dragon when he was being such a gentleman and helping me with my jacket. "I can't believe how much he knows about them. I just love dragons too. They're so large and fierce... but very misunderstood creatures, I think," Lilith explained. "I have a big collection of them. I'm going to take Hagrid back to my place and show them to him, if you don't mind us skipping out on you," she added. 

Whether they minded or not, she sauntered off down the street, tugging the lumbering and blushing Hagrid along with her. 

Several other people shot curious glances at the towering duo, even though this section of the street was known by the local Muggles as being unusual in the number of eccentric characters it attracted. They took a lot less notice of oddities like a Half-giant and an Amazon on a date here than they would in a more posh neighborhood.

Welkin grinned up at Severus and arched an eyebrow at him in triumph. She was up by two on him. He hadn't thought that the Minerva/Aberforth pairing would work out either, and they were regulars at Madam Puddifoot's now. Aberforth had even gone so far as to introduce Minerva to his goats. 

Snape stood there gaping, astonished at the notion that Rubeus Hagrid might actually get laid tonight before he did. He watched the tall leather-clad woman and Hagrid the Half-giant, with the handle of his incongruous pink parasol protruding from his side pocket, as Welkin stated her optimistic view of things. 

"It's a promising start, don't you think? They have something in common to talk about. A shared love of exotic animals," Welkin said wisely.

"Show him her collection, indeed," Snape snorted to Welkin. "If I know Lilith, that is not all she will be showing him."

"Really?" Welkin said breathlessly, picturing it in her head. "Do you think they're going to actually fuck? That might be a problem. I mean... I don't think they make a condom big enough for... I mean... If they make giant-size rubbers, I bet they're not being literal about it. They wouldn't be big enough for an _actual_ Giant, I don't think."

"It is a bit late to contemplate such things now," Snape told her. "Hopefully, Hagrid will know what to do if she is agreeable. It is no longer our concern." 

Snape encircled Welkin's waist with his arm. "The tedious portion of this evening is officially at an end. We shall return home immediately, where I shall reacquaint you with my giant-size Blast-Ended Skrewt."

"Would that qualify as bestiality, do you think? That's one we haven't done yet," Welkin pondered.

"I do not think so, but I would be happy to consult the Restricted Section for something which would." 

Snape grinned evilly, checked the street for evening strollers who might be startled by their abrupt disappearance, and Disapparated with her.

* * *

"Why are so many vital potions ingredients so disgusting?"

"What constitutes disgusting to you?" Snape asked, handing her a trowel and something to snip with. "Put all of the ingredients you find into your bag and we shall separate them later," he instructed.

"Yes, my Lord and Master... It's pretty disgusting if it's anything with pus that oozes, or smells strong enough to knock out a charging Hippogriff at forty paces. That kind of thing. Why does it have to smell bad to work? Like that awful pre-natal potion. Promise me I won't _ever_ have to drink that stuff again!" Welkin grimaced painfully at the horrible memory. "What's all this stuff we're gathering for? Why can't we just get it out of the greenhouses?"

"Which of those jumbled questions and statements would you like me to address first, Welkin?" Snape asked.

"You're getting to be quite the stand-up comedian, Severus. We should open up a comedy club in Hogsmeade, right next to the brothel. You could split your time between the two," she said wryly. "Why can't we just get this stuff out of the greenhouses?"

"Because some of the ingredients that must be used to slow the progression of Albus's condition cannot be cultivated, are only found growing in the wild, and must be gathered fresh. 

"Oh... this stuff is for Albus?"

"Yes." He was already kneeling on the ground, snipping the tips from one of the plants he was after.

Welkin shut her mouth, bent to her task and started energetically poking at the base of the nearest tree with her trowel, digging for one of the numerous roots that were on his precisely lettered and numbered list. For her benefit, since she was not as well-versed in the ingredients as he was, he had included moving pictures of each of the needed roots and herbs, as well as habitats in which they would most likely be found. 

Snape smiled to himself as he heard her start to sing under her breath. It was a Muggle tune that sounded vaguely familiar. Something about whistling while you worked, which is exactly what Welkin began to do.

A scant one hundred yards away, hidden from view behind another massive oak tree, someone else was smiling at Welkin, feeling glee at her providence in discovering that the accursed pair had ventured into the Forbidden Forest. 

Bellatrix Lestrange stifled a crazed giggle with the back of her hand, her wand drawn and at the ready. The shadowy one, the Dark Goddess, had truly favored her. With any luck, she would be able to dispatch both her primary target, Welkin Snape, and her cowardly husband, who had been a thorn in Bella's side for far too long. 

No doubt he would abandon his Muggle whore to try to save himself, just as he had when the Dark Lord had needed him. But even if he escaped, she could always make it appear as if Snape himself had arranged his wife's death, and those bumbling imbeciles at the Ministry of Magic could deal with him as a murderer, as they had always wished to, but were prevented by Albus Dumbledore's intervention. The hellish confines of Azkaban, and perhaps the horror of a dementor's kiss would do quite nicely to remove Severus Snape from his undeserved place as Voldemort's most trusted servant.

The only question was, how was she to arrange it? Bella watched and stewed in her hatred, as Welkin worked her way deeper into the forest.

* * *

"We should be heading back to the castle," Snape said, dumping the remainder of the roots he had harvested into his bag and pulling the closure tight. There was no reply. 

"Welkin!" he shouted. "The sun will be setting soon! We must go back!" 

Still no reply. She must have wandered out of range of his voice. No need to panic just yet, but he needed to find her. He could not chance her getting disoriented in the forest in the dark, and wandering into some danger unaware.

He set off deeper into the forest, following the trail her feet had left in the soft earth, which was still damp from yesterday's rainstorm.

"Welkin! Answer me! Where are you?"

* * *

Where Welkin was, she was not sure. She had not been paying attention to how far, or the direction she had gone. Each time she had thought to turn back to rejoin Severus, she had been distracted by the discovery of a new source of the herbs or roots they needed for Albus. She thought to retrace her steps but a sudden whirlwind had dropped a shower of leaves from the trees and effectively obscured her path back the way she had come.

"Severus! Can you hear me?" she shouted to him. How far had she gone? Maybe she could try to signal him with her wand somehow, and then just stay put so that he could find her.

As she was pondering that plan, she heard a rustling from a nearby thicket of bushes, and immediately tensed. Weren't there supposed to be all manner of dark creatures in these woods? Werewolves and giant hairy spiders and God only knew what other things that might hunger for human flesh and blood?

"Welkin! Where are you?" 

Thank God. It was Severus, come to look for her. 

"Severus! I'm here!" 

She moved in the direction of his voice, pushing her way through the foliage into a small clearing beyond which was an outcropping of massive stones. Severus' voice was coming from inside the darkened entrance to a cave, which was set into the side of a rocky hill. 

"Severus?" 

"Here! In the cave! Welkin! I am injured! I slipped on wet stones! Help me!"

"I'm coming! Don't move!" 

Concealed behind one of the larger stones at the face of the cavern entrance, Bella removed the point of her wand from her throat and waited anxiously as Welkin rushed towards death, lured by the magically altered sound of Bella's voice, and Severus’ need for her.

Welkin had just breached the entrance when a deep rumbling sound halted her. She stared into the dimness. 

"Severus?" she called uncertainly.

Two enormous yellow-orange eyes suddenly glowed at her like gigantic embers in the dark, as the sleeping dragon awakened. 

"Oh... shit..." Welkin started to back slowly away.

Bella quickly raised her wand and directed it into the cave in the direction of the dragon. 

"Imperio!" she spoke the curse, and forced her mind and will into the creature's brain, seeking to agitate it.

"Attack! Kill the intruder!" she hissed. "Kill her! Kill!" she commanded.

The dragon whipped its scaly tail in the air and let it fall with a thud, writhing on the ground as it slithered towards Welkin, who realized now that it couldn't have been Severus she thought she heard. 

"Nice lizard. Sweet lizard. You great big black… fucking... dangerous son of a bitch… Welkin's just going to leave now… no need to see me to the door." She backed away stealthily, praying that she didn’t trip and become an hors d’oeurve. 

The 'nice lizard' bared its teeth at her, saliva dripping from the points of the fangs in anticipation of a charbroiled delicacy - her!

Welkin abandoned all pretense of soothing the angry beast, turned and ran. She bounded out of the cave with the dragon in pursuit, roaring and snapping at her. Outside the cave, the creature spread its leathery black wings and flicked out a tongue of flame at Welkin's retreating back. 

Feeling the heat at her back, Welkin whipped out her wand and turned as she ran, aiming at the creature. “Stupefy!” She let loose a volley of attempts to halt, or at least slow the dragon enough to allow her to take cover, but her puny efforts only seemed to enrage it. 

Welkin dived back into the thicket of tall grass she had emerged from earlier, hoping that whatever the dragon was guarding in the cave would keep it from pursuing her further once she was out of sight. No such luck, and she realized quickly that had been a terrible move, as the flames set the dry grass ablaze. She barely had time to emerge on the other side before the fire engulfed the entire undergrowth. 

As the enraged ophidian stomped through the flames, Welkin raised her wand one more time. “Expecto Patronum!” she shouted, unleashing the milky silver image of her Patronus and sending it to find Severus. If only she could stay out of the dragon’s reach long enough, Severus might find her in time.

The dragon was spewing hot bursts of flames at her in a straight line as it took to the air to pursue her across the clearing she had reached. She had reached the boundary of the Forbidden Forest, but the dragon was still in pursuit, the flames were getting closer, and she wasn’t going to be fast enough to reach the castle. 

Strafing run! Welkin thought, suddenly remembering her father’s stories of his war service during World War II and the infantrymen attempting to evade enemy aircraft as they ducked for cover. She began to run in a zigzag pattern. If she couldn’t outrun it, maybe she could confound its aim.

* * *

Snape had never been so glad, or so horrified, to see a Silver Stag Patronus in his life. He ran after it on foot, his wand drawn. As happy as he was to know that the Patronus would lead him to Welkin, he dreaded the thought of what he might find once he located her. Welkin was a more than capable duelist and would never have cast the Patronus unless she was in trouble. It must be something she couldn’t handle on her own. 

The stag bounded through the air, bouncing off the surrounding trees, headed towards the clearing that separated the Forbidden Forest from Hogwarts. The closer he got to the edge of the forest, the better he felt. Snape had instructed Welkin before they set out together, in the unlikely event that they should get separated, she should return to the clearing and wait for him there. Very few of the more dangerous denizens of the forest would venture past the boundaries of the woods. 

Snape burst into the light of the clearing as the Patronus dissolved in mid-air. He whirled in place, his cloak billowing in the cool air, as he scanned for some sign of her. What he saw was an erratic running figure pursued by a fire-breathing Hebridean Black dragon, one of the wildest and most dangerous, which had abandoned the shadowed refuge of the forest to chase after fresh game. Snape recognized Welkin’s hunter green cloak several seconds before a new burst of flames blasted towards her and her shriek of pain traveled to his ears. “WELKIN!” he shouted, his heart pounding. 

“SEV – E – RUS!” she screamed just before she fell.

Snape took flight, rocketing into the air and covering the distance between them in seconds. As he landed in front of her, another blast of flames was nearly upon them as he raised his wand. “PROTEGO INCENDIA!” he shouted, and the flames bent backwards as the protective shield surrounded them. 

“We’re safe!” Welkin shouted, clutching at her right ankle, where there was a blackened, smoking gash in her suede boot. 

“Only for the moment. This breed is a man-eater. It will not just quietly give up and go away. Once aroused they are both savage and relentless, and this shield will not hold long enough for others to miss us and come looking for us,” Severus informed her, dashing her celebratory feelings. 

“We cannot stun it. That would require more concentrated force than you and I combined can produce,” Snape said thoughtfully.

Welkin realized he was no longer speaking to her, but more to himself, trying to rationalize his way through this predicament and come up with a plan. 

“It will have to be destroyed,” Snape announced tersely. He knelt beside her and touched her face. “To attempt it, I shall have to lower the shield. Do you understand, Welkin?” 

Welkin understood too well what he was getting at. If whatever he planned succeeded, they would be on their way back to the castle. If it didn’t, they would both be dead.

Welkin stroked his cheek and kissed him. “For luck,” she said, smiling wanly at him.

“I shall need more luck than that, my love,” Snape replied and gathered her into his arms. He kissed her roughly, bruising her mouth for what could be the last time, as the dragon raged and belched fire at them, repelled by their protective bubble. 

When he straightened and rose from his crouch, Snape assumed a stance with his legs apart and Welkin saw his left hand clutch at his cloak convulsively as he prepared to drop the shield. Welkin fixed her gaze on the profile of the man who was the most precious possession she had in this world, other than Sully. If the worst happened, she wanted her last sight to be his beautiful face.

Severus grimaced in concentration and the vein in his forehead twitched as he raised his wand again. With perfect timing, he dropped the shield as the dragon was between bursts of flame. He pointed his wand and shouted the only incantation he was likely to be able to get off. 

“ENGORGIO PECTUS PETORIS!”

Of course, Welkin thought. He was targeting the dragon’s heart, to enlarge and explode it. It was a brilliant strategy.

The monster twitched and thrashed in pain, but managed to belch one more fiery blast as the vital organ Snape had targeted swelled to bursting capacity. 

Severus knelt again quickly and grabbed her, rolling to the side with her as the flames scorched the earth where they had been. He rolled again to cover her protectively with his body and Welkin strained to look over his shoulder as the dragon roared again in pain and its massive heart burst, its body falling to the ground beside them with a loud thud, shaking the ground where they lay.

Snape’s eyes were squeezed closed, as if he wasn’t sure they were both still there and not lying in a heap of charred flesh. When he opened them, Welkin was staring at him in wonder.

“That was fucking awesome!” she gasped admiringly, hugging him tightly. “You rescued me… just like in the fairy tales!”

* * *


	56. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape argues with Madam Pomfrey concerning what's best for Welkin's recovery from the dragon attack, as the news of Snape's heroism makes the gossip rounds. Dumbledore makes a gesture of reconciliation.

* * *

"That's crazy... Why would anybody want to try to kill me?" Welkin frowned at Snape in puzzlement at such an odd pronouncement.

"I can only speculate as to the reason, but you were lured into the cave of a sleeping dragon by the sound of my voice. Clearly that was an attempt on your life," Snape concluded.

"Voldemort?" Welkin guessed. 

"I do not think so. He prefers to face his victims, the better to enjoy the look of... terror in their eyes." 

Severus fell silent, and his face assumed a brooding, troubled look which Welkin had seen on those beloved craggy features more often of late. 

Would there ever come a time when that look was no longer there, hovering just beneath the surface? Welkin doubted it. Not as long as they were here at Hogwarts and he was still pressed into duty as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. The best she could probably hope for was a less frequent reappearance of that look of misery over time. If only they could get away from this place. Severus just kept drowning in the past here. No matter how many lifelines she threw out to him, there was always a ghostly grindylow of a bad memory surfacing to try to pull him back under the lake of his regrets. 

Severus had scars on his soul much deeper than anything the dragon could ever have inflicted on Welkin's flesh, she realized with sorrow. She had known it before, but was only now coming to understand the true depth of it after nearly two years of marriage.

Welkin shifted stiffly in the hospital bed, reached out a hand and covered the boney knuckles of one of his large hands with her own, empathizing with what she knew he was feeling. 

"You're thinking about Lily again, aren't you? It wasn't your fault that you couldn't prevent her death, Severus," she said gently. "No more than it would have been your fault today if you hadn't been able to save me," she added. 

"I know that," Snape said quietly.

"No, you obviously don't, or you wouldn't keep trying to be savior to the Wizarding World to try to atone for mistakes you made when you were young and didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into. You've given up so much already because you think you don't deserve to be forgiven unless you make yourself completely miserable. But you already have been forgiven... by Lily and by the ones who count."

Snape grasped her hand tightly and once again clutched hopefully at the lifeline of her comforting words. "If only I could really be certain of that!"

"Believe it... not because I tell you to... but because it's really true," Welkin urged.

"Excuse me," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, as she arrived with Welkin's second dose of pain potion to diminish the raw throbbing from the burns on Welkin's right ankle where the dragon's breath had made its ugly searing marks. 

"That's enough of that for tonight," she told them, rudely aborting the tender gesture of Snape leaning towards his wife for a kiss. She had observed that and their clasped hands, and totally misinterpreted both gestures. 

"I can't have my patient overly-excited, professor. It isn't good for her," Pomfrey told Snape sternly. The rumors of the Snapes' exuberant extracurricular sexcapades made her wary of leaving them alone for too long without her supervision.

Welkin swallowed the lumpy pain potion, which had something floating in it that looked a little bit like Owl droppings to her. She hastily motioned to Snape to hand her a glass of water to cleanse her mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste. 

"That stuff is so disgusting, I'd almost rather have the pain," she told the nurse. "How much of a scar am I going to have? You said it probably wouldn't be completely obliterated by the treatment."

"This is healing quite well," the nurse said approvingly, as she used her wand to dissolve the bandages to check on the healing process. "The burn was large, but the size has diminished by half and most of the injury should be gone by this time tomorrow. I'd say that the scar will be quite small. You were very fortunate to be wearing boots." 

She slathered on some more of the thick orange paste she had used to salve Welkin's burn earlier, and reapplied fresh bandages with the wave of her wand. 

"It's time for you to get some rest," Madam Pomfrey advised. "Say goodnight to your visitor now."

"Does he really have to go just yet? I'm not the least bit tired," Welkin pleaded.

"Do not concern yourself, I shall not leave your side," Snape reassured her, glaring at the nurse. The prospect of sleeping in their bed tonight without Welkin was daunting enough for him, without the added threat of also being driven from her hospital bedside so early.

"Now, Professor Snape, you wouldn't want to set a bad example for the other patients, would you?" Pomfrey asked, sounding like she was talking to a sulky eleven-year-old. "None of them can have visitors at this hour either, and you'll be disturbing them as well as your wife if you stay. Go along with yourself now, and I'll take good care of your wife if she needs anything."

"Which other patients would we be disturbing?” Snape insisted on knowing. “I only observe there to be one other patient in this ward, madam, unless the others you speak of are possessed of Invisibility Cloaks. That little half-wit of a first year student is obviously overjoyed to have pulled the wool over your eyes and convinced you that he needs to be excused from his classes for two full days," Snape accused. “I could care less if he is inconvenienced by our presence.”

"My word, Professor! Have you no compassion? The child fell in the lake and nearly drowned. He caught his death of a chill in the cold water. I'll not have him over-exerting himself by returning to classes too soon in his weakened condition, and I'll not have you disturbing the sleep he needs with your... your..."

"My _what?_ " Snape asked coldly, his tone tinged with warning.

"With your... _shenanigans_ is what, professor! You and your wife's scandalous shenanigans are the talk of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, if you must know. Professor Dumbledore may turn a blind eye to your disgraceful behavior in front of these students, but I'll have none of it here in my hospital ward!" 

"That boy's bed is completely removed from us. It is entirely at the other end of this ward and you may give him a strong sleeping draught if you are so concerned with the supposed sensitivities of that whiney little faker. I suggest you transfer your attentions to attending to that little charlatan's ills, and let me attend to my wife, since you seem so willing to equate a mere case of the sniffles with a deadly dragon attack," Snape said snidely. "Might I add that your professional demeanor in this matter is sadly lacking, madam."

"Be that as it may, you will not turn my hospital ward into a den of iniquity. It is time for all visitors to leave, professor... that means you!" Pomfrey looked like an agitated hen that had just had her feathers ruffled one too many times by Snape.

Welkin had been watching the escalating acrimonious exchange with wide-eyed interest, not attempting to intervene at all, her eyes darting back and forth between them as she quietly sipped her water through the straw until she got to the bottom with a loud sucking sound that made both their heads turn towards her again. 

"What's wrong with a little shenanigans? Maybe it would boost my morale, I'd get better sooner, and we could both leave," Welkin finally interjected.

Nurse Pomfrey looked not just singularly unimpressed with Welkin's skewed logic, but positively alarmed at her innocently intended suggestion. 

"It’s just as I suspected! I am not leaving you two alone in my hospital ward to do as you please in front of an impressionable young boy. The proprieties will be observed at all times. I will allow you five more minutes to say your goodnights, but I shall keep a sharp eye out for any inappropriate contact, I assure you."

"You will not have to, madam," Snape said stiffly, clearly offended by the intimation that they would do anything startling in front of the boy. Perhaps Welkin would, but he certainly wouldn't, and Pomfrey was completely out of line to suggest such a thing. 

"I am taking my wife and these medicinals back to our chambers now, where I shall care for her myself," Snape announced loudly, as he stood up and began cramming Welkin's wand and various other articles into her bag.

"Don't forget the roots and herbs," Welkin instructed helpfully. "We spent most of the day gathering those and went through a dragon attack for them, so don't leave them behind."

"No, no! Mrs. Snape must not leave, she has not fully recovered! She should spend the night here under my observation at the very least," the agitated nurse insisted. "I must give my approval for her release, professor. Stop that immediately!"

"Bollocks!" Snape yelled, causing Welkin to not quite stifle a giggle. "You cannot hold my wife hostage! She wishes to come with me, and come with me she shall!" 

She did wish to go with him, but Welkin wondered idly when he had managed to determine that, since he hadn't bothered to ask her what she wanted. 

Snape draped Welkin's bag of roots and herbs around his neck and chest in a sling-like fashion, threw back the bedcovering and scooped Welkin up in his arms, striding swiftly towards the door with her, a dark scowl on his face while Welkin smiled drowsily but quite happily with her arms around his neck, enjoying the considerable melodrama of the moment. 

Madam Pomfrey tried once more to entreat Snape to listen to reason, following him to the door and bravely tugging at his arm, something most people would be too frightened to attempt with Severus Snape. Fortunately for her, the much maligned other patient was suddenly struck with a loud, convulsive coughing fit and Pomfrey had to abandon her efforts to tackle Snape in order to rush to his bed.

It was a good thing that Welkin was modestly clad in the rather sedate gray nightshirt that Severus had retrieved for her earlier from their quarters, because the sight of him carrying her through the hallways was a source of great interest and entertainment to the students they encountered. Snape's heroism was the talk of the castle. 

The story of Snape's victory over the dragon had already circulated the castle via both the student grapevine and the gossip rounds made by occupants of the many Hogwarts paintings and portraits. The heroic story was even being discussed in the kitchens by the Hogwarts house-elves, who had just barely gotten over the recent discovery of Welkin Snape's scandalously ripped clothing on the floor of the dungeon Potions Lab. 

"Heads up! Dragon slayer in the house! Badass dragon slayer coming through... Make way for the dragon slayer and potty-mouthed damsel in distress!" Welkin added to the drama by shouting similar commands every three hundred yards or so, until small groups of students began to laugh and break into sporadic cheers and applause for Snape, the unlikely hero. 

A few of the older students thought they saw a shadow of a smile quirk the corners of Snape's lips as the couple passed them, but dismissed it as an illusion. Everyone knew Snape didn't have a sense of humor, or respond in any way to compliments, which he was likely to regard as arse-kissing attempts at flattery. They were grateful that Professor Snape had his hands full toting Welkin off to their quarters in the dungeons and wouldn't be able to do anything about it if he disapproved of the shouted accolades they were bestowing on him.

* * *

"Potty-mouth is right," Ron told Harry and Hermione with annoyance, when Snape nearly mowed them down as he was headed down the stairway to the dungeons. "They deserve each other! They're both mental, and he's so full of himself, acting like some kind of a hero when that dragon probably just got one look at that ugly face of his and dropped dead of fright."

"Well, I think he was very brave to risk his life to rescue her like that!" Hermione snapped. "Ronald Weasley, you just have no sense of romance at all!"

"Just like a girl to go all soft in the head 'cause a bloke does something only a nutter would do just to draw attention to himself. I'd expect that out of somebody daft like Lavender, but I thought you had a better head on your shoulders than that, Hermione, to fall for that balmy romance rubbish," Ron sniffed.

"Ronald, you need to just shut up since you don't know what you're talking about. But since when is that anything new? At least you got one thing right this time... you finally noticed that I'm a girl!" Hermione shoved past Ron and stalked away angrily.

Harry looked at Ron and shook his head. "You two are making my scar hurt worse. Every day it's the same thing. I wish you'd just stop arguing with her and tell her that you fancy her."

"Me? Fancy _her?_ Not bloody likely!" Ron protested. "I just... don't want to see her mixing with the wrong sort is all...she's mental, but... she's my friend, ya know?" he finished weakly.

Harry raised a hand to rub his temple, where the lightning bolt-shaped scar was throbbing once again. Every week that went by without a stab of pain almost made him forget that he was still a target of Voldemort. It lulled Harry into a false hope that he might be able to finally lead a more normal existence and be just another student at Hogwarts. 

Harry sometimes daydreamed that Voldemort had weakened on his own and he wouldn't have to fulfill his unwanted destiny as the _Chosen One_. God, how he hated being called that, and all the pointing and whispers that came with it. He hated that as much as he hated Snape, who had appointed himself as Harry's personal devil the moment he set foot in Hogwarts the year of his eleventh birthday.

Harry rubbed his forehead again and thought of how great it would be to wake up in his four-poster bed tomorrow morning in the Gryffindor dormitories and be rid of his jagged scar, that ugly reminder that he too had been a catalyst for his parents' deaths at the hands of Voldemort so many years ago.

* * *

"Aberforth sends his regards," Minerva told Albus, as she struggled with Sullivan Snape to free his fists from the strands of Dumbledore's long silver beard which Sully was tightly grasping and tugging at. 

"Dum... Dum... Dum-daaah!" Sully squealed, recognizing the man who sometimes visited his Mama and Daddy in their quarters, always with a delicious sweet treat or a bauble in his pocket just for Sully.

"Somehow I doubt that Aberforth did any such thing," Albus told her. "At least, not without prompting from you." 

He extricated Sully's hands from his beard himself and quickly thrust a teacake into them instead, which instantly quieted the child.

"The boy has spirit! Not unlike myself at that tender age. I'm afraid my poor mother and father had quite a handful to contend with when we were growing up, though Aberforth and dear Ariana never got into nearly as many scrapes as I did," Albus admitted.

"The wee bairn is a bit on the stubborn side, and much too daring for his own good at times," Minerva reported. "But he's a bonny charmer, and tugs at hearts as strongly and surely as he does at your beard," Minerva added, her eyes shining fondly at the child in her lap. "The lad could use a mite more discipline from those parents of his, mind you, but I haven't the heart to correct him myself." 

Albus watched the usually stern woman beaming at the child and thought how unfortunate it was that Minerva was probably past her childbearing years now, especially since she was currently keeping company with his brother Aberforth. If things were different, and there were more time, perhaps he would have done a better job as an uncle than he ever did as a brother or a son.

Albus wasn't a great believer in regrets, but he did have a few. Among the foremost on the list was his almost non-existent personal relationship with his brother, aside from Aberforth's cooperation with the Order of the Phoenix. There had always been jealousy and competitiveness in their childhood relationship, but the deaths of their mother and sister had been the thing that had driven the final wedge between them. They had each blamed the other in the aftermath of that tragedy, and the anger and hatred they felt had hardened their hearts year after year against each other until the wounds were so deep that it seemed they would never be healed. 

Sometimes a scar was preferable to an open wound that might never heal until it was too late, Albus mused. 

"Minerva, will you do me a great kindness?" Albus asked.

"If it's in my power to, of course I will."

"Would you deliver a letter I intend to write to Aberforth? I prefer that you deliver it personally instead of entrusting it to an Owl." 

"Yes, of course I will."

Albus hesitated, then added: "I also ask that you deliver the message that it is sent with my most kind regards, in hopes that he and you might enjoy Christmas dinner together with me here at Hogwarts this year."

Minerva beamed at him like she had at the baby. "I'd be delighted to tell him! You'll not regret this, Albus. I swear that you won't."

* * *


	57. Deadly Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus fusses over Welkin's injury, and discusses who might have attempted to kill her. Bella considers a new plan to eliminate her rivals.

* * *

"Nurse Pomfrey has secured these bandages too tightly," Severus complained, although Welkin herself wasn't in that much discomfort from them, now that she had two potent doses of pain potion in her system. Her head felt pleasantly floaty. 

Snape used a Banishing Charm to remove the bandages and inspected her leg again as she reclined regally on the plethora of pillows he had solicitously arranged for her on their bed. He was being a little too solicitous if you asked Welkin. She liked it, but she actually liked it better when he was behaving normally and being a little bit of a pain in the ass.

"It's okay, really. She did a good job. You don't have to do it again. I think almost anything rubbing against my skin right now would still be a little painful—even you," Welkin told him.

"I shall be the judge of what is sufficient to salve your wounds, Welkin. I am not without healing skills of my own," Snape reminded her tersely, obviously determined to justify his removing her from the hospital ward despite Pomfrey's shrill protests.

"I know that, Severus. You're the best there is at patching me up. I just meant she's pretty good at it too." 

Welkin stopped leaning forward to watch him and lay back against the soft pillows again in resignation. If he was that determined to fuss over her, then let him fuss until his snarky little heart was content. If she could endure childbirth and dragon burns, she could surely endure a few hours of Severus playing nursemaid.

Severus spent a good twenty minutes cleaning her wound, applying more salve, and bandaging it again, a little looser than the nurse had, which Welkin had to admit, did feel better now. Unlike the nurse, he did it all by hand, which she found surprisingly comforting. That's what was missing in magical medicine—the human touch.

"Would you like something warm and soothing to drink? Or brandy, perhaps?" Snape asked.

"If you'll join me in one, my handsome dragon slayer."

Snape smiled at her use of 'handsome' and changing her accustomed 'prince' to her new admiring term 'dragon slayer'. Welkin smiled back because she'd made him smile, and as silly as it might sound, that made her leg feel better too.

He strutted over to the cabinet that held their small stock of alcohol. Retrieving two glasses, he filled each about halfway full, returned to hand her one, and seated himself close to her on the edge of the bed. So many conversations always seemed to start with one or both of them perched on the edge of this bed, Welkin thought idly. 

Snape took a drink, then watched her closely as she sipped, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to ask what's causing that worry frown of yours this time," Welkin said.

"Is it not obvious? You should have one as well. Someone has attempted to kill you, Welkin. We must ascertain who, and to what purpose."

"I still say maybe Voldemort has decided that he wants me out of the picture, even though he thinks I'm just a useless, disgusting Muggle. Maybe he just doesn't like the idea that your loyalties might be split between him and me."

"I find that unlikely." Snape dismissed her speculation about Voldemort again. "He would test me first, by commanding that I dismiss you, and as I said, Voldemort prefers to face his victims when he disposes of them."

"But there isn't anybody else who would want me dead—except maybe Lucius Malfoy. He has reason enough to hate me, but he's in Azkaban, with no access to his money now, so I doubt he could even manage to pay someone to try to kill me," Welkin reasoned. "Unless he somehow got... You don't think _Narcissa_ tried to kill me, do you?!" Welkin asked excitedly.

The crease in Snape's brow deepened. Welkin could almost see his mind working as he turned the possibilities over in his thoughts.

"Not Lucius, of a certainty. Azkaban has surely blunted his more malicious instincts, and I doubt that he would still have the will left to attempt such a thing, even by proxy."

"But Narcissa—What about Narcissa?" Welkin repeated.

"Not Narcissa either," Snape mused. "It is simply not in her nature. She has always depended upon Lucius for the less delicate actions which needed to be undertaken to ensure their status in the social hierarchy. Malicious trickery and violence are his stock-in-trade in that union, not Narcissa’s."

"Just because you fucked her once doesn't mean she couldn't be a suspect," Welkin said grumpily. "That makes her even _more_ of a suspect to my way of thinking. She may still have the hots for you."

Snape couldn't help grinning, even though this was a deadly serious conversation. It was quite flattering to be the object of Welkin's jealousy. Ever since Severus had told her that Narcissa Malfoy had been his first and only sexual partner other than prostitutes, Welkin had been a little jealous of the tall, thin, snooty blonde. Severus liked it when Welkin was jealous of him, because it evened things out a bit, since he was often so terribly jealous of her, but her jealousy of Narcissa was interfering with her logic.

"I sincerely doubt that Narcissa has ever been inclined to _'have the hots'_ for anyone in her entire life," Snape chuckled. "She is more inclined towards the other end of the temperature spectrum where such things are concerned."

"Maybe Narcissa heated up over the years, and now she wants to bump me off so she can have you herself, since Lucius is out of the picture and she's not even getting _bad_ sex anymore." Welkin ignored him in favor of continuing her disgruntled speculations, fabricating the lurid scenario in her head. 

"I wouldn't put it past her. She's probably just itching to get those long claws of hers on you again. I bet she's wanted to jump your bones for years after having to put up with Lucius and his fumbling around. That man probably couldn't find a woman's clit if it was shot full of uranium and he had a geiger counter."

Welkin seriously regarded Snape, who had suddenly gone suspiciously quiet, and was avoiding her eyes. He took a sip of his brandy and coughed as a bit of it went down the wrong way.

"Oh, my God! I'm right! She actually tried it, didn't she? I can tell by the way you're acting. When? Was it since we've been married? I'll kick that uppity Pureblood ass of hers if it was!" Welkin sat up suddenly in the bed, sloshing her forgotten drink on her nightshirt. She no longer looked relaxed.

"Wells, please! You will injure your leg! It was well before you and I met, and nothing happened except an embarrassing attempt on her part at a most unimaginative seduction. I told you before that I have no wish for a repeat performance with Narcissa," he said. "I have no desire to be pleasured by anyone but you, my love," he insisted. 

He set his drink aside, took what was left of hers from her hand and set it aside as well, before he lay down beside her, gently pulling her into place against him and carefully positioning her injured leg atop his hip to protect it. "Accio, coverlet," he said, gesturing at it, and the bedcovering slid upward over them both. 

“I know that too. I guess I just got a little carried away,” Welkin apologized.

Severus snuggled against her, grateful that Welkin appeared to have calmed herself and their sleep would not be delayed by an extended debate about Narcissa.

“I merely know the personalities of the former Black sisters, is all that I was alluding to,” he explained, as he raised a hand to douse the lights. “Of the three, Bella is the only one who…” 

Snape dropped his hand abruptly as a new suspicion asserted itself in his mind. “Of course—Bella!” he exclaimed. 

Who else had already expressed such disdain and hatred for his ‘Muggle’ wife? Besides which, Lucius’ story of Bella’s reaction when Voldemort had complimented Welkin’s physical attributes in front of her had been quite disquieting to Severus at the time. Her devotion to Voldemort was maniacally unwavering, and she clearly detested anyone who she considered to be an impediment to her maintaining and bettering her position of favor in his eyes. 

“Bella would be quite capable of an attempt on your life. Why did I not see that immediately?” Snape chided himself. 

“I know you said she didn’t like me, but I haven’t actually done anything to her," Welkin protested. "You said she's a great supporter of Voldemort, but as far as she knows, I’m no threat to him. Why would she want me dead?” Welkin blinked at him, obviously not comprehending the implications of Bella’s interest in the Dark Lord.

“Because she is obviously and pathetically enamored of him, and she views any other person who he favors with his notice in any way as a rival for his attentions,” Snape explained. He touched her face, where the worry frown he had said she needed to have was now in place. 

“You are such an innocent about some things, my love,” he told her. “I sometimes forget that, because of the bold way you express yourself. I should have been plainer to you about Bella’s motivations. Her marriage to her husband was not undertaken as ours was—as a love match.” 

It was a hard thing for Welkin to understand, since she couldn't comprehend why anyone would ever want to marry unless it was for the only truly compelling reason, which was love. Love had been the only reason she had finally agreed to marry Severus. She couldn't stand the thought of either hurting him, or being without him. All things considered, she wasn't sorry that Severus and Albus had tricked her into it. She'd been mostly very happy in the last two years, and she knew that Severus had been more happy than he would have been without her. 

“We still don’t know for sure it was Bella,” Welkin said doubtfully. Her ability to focus on what Severus was saying was getting a little less easy as he continued to stroke her face.

“No, we do not, but I shall certainly attempt to determine that at the next opportunity,” Snape agreed, a note of firm determination in his voice. “If it was her, she will be as relentless as the dragon was in pursuing you, and we dare not ignore her. She will not stop until she has accomplished her goal of eliminating you as a perceived threat in one way or another.”

“I’m not worried. Not really,” Welkin added, twisting her head to kiss at the hand stroking her. "You take care of the dragons, and I'll take care of the jealous bitches," she quipped.

"Wells, you must take this threat seriously. You might not be so lucky next time," he cautioned.

"It wasn't luck," Welkin said, and kissed him. "It was you who saved me. You're all the luck I'll ever need." She kissed him again more firmly and twined her arms around him, letting her hands roam. "That was the bravest thing I've ever seen. Just thinking about it makes me _sooooo_ hot. I think you deserve a reward." 

"Perhaps after your leg is fully healed," Snape told her with maddening control, attempting to keep her busy, questing hands still by grasping her by the wrists. "You should get some rest now, Wells."

"Fuck my leg! It feels great! It's hardly sore at all. We can rest after I reward you," Welkin insisted. "Are you gonna waste a perfectly good opportunity when I'm already in position?" she asked, wresting one wrist free and pulling his hand down to lie on top of the thigh of her injured leg, which was resting comfortably, supported by his hip.

She did have a point, Snape thought. She was quite open to him in this position, and he could be careful not to jar or graze against her injured leg too severely. He might be Slytherin, but this was not a situation in which Snape was inclined to delay and make elaborate plans before acting. In this one situation he was perfectly willing to behave like a Gryffindor and throw caution to the winds. 

Snape spoke the Banishing Charm for another purpose and they were instantly naked in each other's arms. 

"Ooooohhh—brave sir knight—prithee tell me—is that your mighty sword I feel—or are ya just happy ta rescue me?" 

Welkin alternated her accent between sounding like a proper princess at the beginning, and a much more Mae West sort of damsel at the end. She grinned broadly at Snape as she captured his stiff, fleshy sword with her hand, and both his heart and his cock leapt with pleasure at the same time.

"My sword is always at the ready for you, milady, but requires a firm hand to wield it, and a soft, tight scabbard to sheath it in. Can you provide what is required to your dragon slayer?"

"Verily, thy magnificent magical blade hath need of what this damsel is more than willing to provideth. I pray thee, tarry not, but sheath mighty Excalibur anon, brave knight! I am in peril of dying an untouched maiden and am grievously in need of thine rescue!" Welkin exhorted him to action quite dramatically.

And so it was that Sir Snape came to bravely brandish his sword in her cave twice that even, to rout and slay the dragon for her, much to Lady Welkin's highly vocal delight.

* * *

The bitch was definitely not a Muggle. A Muggle didn't wave a wand and fling spells at a pursuing dragon, or conjure a Patronus to summon help, as Bella had seen Welkin Snape do today. 

A fierce frown creased the brow of Bellatrix Lestrange this evening as she paced in her chambers at Malfoy Manor. 

"Not a Muggle... not a Muggle," Bella mumbled. Could that be the reason that Lord Voldemort seemed so interested in her now? 

"No—He couldn't possibly know." If he did know, Snape would have been writhing on the floor under the Cruciatus Curse by now—or worse—because Snape had obviously withheld that interesting bit of information about his wife from the Dark Lord. 

She was tempted to run straight to Voldemort with the information, which would have disposed of at least one of Bella's rivals. If only she could, without running the risk that the knowledge might also increase the Dark Lord's mysterious interest in Welkin Snape in an unwanted way—a way that might disadvantage Bella in his eyes.

Bella fingered her wand and gazed at herself admiringly in the ornate mirror standing next to the ebony-wood cabinet. She was a handsome, dark-haired beauty, and she was well aware of that fact. She had used her looks in her favor to lure both her enemies and hapless Muggles to her before the kill many times in the past. She had even used them to lure the great Lord Voldemort himself, before the unforeseen disruption of his plans, and her incarceration in Azkaban. 

It had been a useful tool once. Perhaps she could use her physical charms again to get what she wanted, she mused. She wound a tendril of dark hair around her wand, still gazing at herself in the mirror as she considered it, and a new plan began to germinate inside her fertilely malicious mind.

* * *


	58. As The Twig Is Bent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape voices his objections to Welkin's participation in Hermione's house-elf liberation project. Draco tries to carry on in his father's absence. Welkin tells Severus about Julien and Hermione. Sully throws a tantrum and learns a new word.

* * *

Welkin barely had time to hang up her coat and join him at his table at _The Three Broomsticks_ when Severus spotted the button she was wearing. 

"Please tell me that is not what it appears to be," Snape pleaded with an elaborate sigh.

"I can hardly believe it's only the middle of October. It's colder than a goblin's heart out there! Sorry I'm late—Sully didn't want me to leave him with Mrs. Murdoch. I had to wait until she had him engrossed in a storybook before I could slip out," Welkin explained. "What are you talking about?" She sat down, looking perplexed and poised for a new skirmish with him.

Severus often blew things out of proportion when he caught her in some teensy little infraction of his lengthy list of rules of conduct—like the time she sent him the Owl with the dirty limerick she'd written for him when he was in a teachers' staff meeting. You'd think he would have been grateful for the break from the god-awful boredom. But no—he'd lectured her later that night until she was ready to scream, and then when she finally opened her mouth to protest he had the audacity to ask her to act out the limerick for him. What a hypocrite! Although, she had to admit that acting out 'There Once Was a Slytherin So Lewd' had been a lot of fun. Severus had even added a verse of his own.

"This garish adornment pinned to your clothing is what I am referring to," Snape clarified. He indicated the large, round button pinned to her blouse at the left shoulder, poking at it as if it were some particularly odorous road-kill. His lips were curled in an expression of distaste.

"You mean my S.P.E.W. button? Hermione asked me to wear it in support of her campaign to raise awareness of the plight of downtrodden house-elves. It's a blinky button too—watch this..." 

Welkin touched a finger to the rim and the large purple letters began to flash consecutively in a continuous sequence. "Do you like it? I can get you one too if you want," she teased, since she already knew his dismal opinion of S.P.E.W. 

"I hope your conspicuous display of that tasteless monstrosity does not mean that you actually joined that absurd organization of Miss Granger's. We are already unpopular enough with the Hogwarts house-elves since you refuse to use them to keep our quarters tidy and will not let me acquire one for you for Spinner’s End during the summer months. Were it not for your acquiescence to the occasional delivery of after-hours foodstuffs by them to our chambers...”

“That's different. That's just room service as far as I'm concerned. I try to tip them, but they just won't take it. Come on, Severus. We’re talking about _house-elves_ here! If they get upset and don’t like us, what are they gonna do about it anyway—grovel us to death? They’re so fucking servile that they creep me out sometimes. I think Hermione is right—they could use a little liberating,” Welkin said. “They’re so anxious to please that they remind me of the _Stepford Wives_ in that Ira Levin book I told you about; except they’re nothing to write home about in the looks department, and I can’t even begin to imagine having sex with one of them.” 

Welkin appropriated Snape’s glass of firewhisky and took a sip, since she didn’t have her own drink yet. “Okay—Maybe I can imagine it—but I’d never actually want to _do_ it,” she corrected herself truthfully.

“Your unorthodox sexual imaginings aside—If you have signed that ridiculous petition Miss Granger is attempting to circulate once again, or joined that asinine movement of hers, I shall most certainly see to it that your name is erased from it,” Snape assured her. “One would think that troublesome little know-it-all would have enough to occupy her overactive mind, what with friend Potter's arrogant obsession with defeating the Dark Lord single-handedly. That girl is creating enmity between elf and wizard where none exists and attempting to draw you into the fray. I shall not...”

“Countenance it!” Welkin finished in tandem and cocked her head at him. 

“For your information, Mr. Sunshine, I am neither your house-elf nor your _Stepford Wife_ , and if you try to erase anything I ever choose to sign, I’ll hex you into the middle of next week without a Time-Turner,” she told him in a pleasant voice that didn't quite match her threat. 

She tempered her threat with a smile for him. “I haven’t signed anything yet, Severus,” she admitted. “I told her I’d have to think about it just to stall her because she's so damn persistent, but I don’t really think I want to get involved. Social activism just isn’t my kind of thing. I like to save my energy for other things.” She slid his glass back into his hand and stood up.

“I’m going to go get us some fresh drinks at the bar. Don’t look so glum, sweetness.” She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I may not be your servile little house-elf... but I _am_ your willing love slave... anytime you want it... anyway you want it...” 

Snape's glum expression altered immediately. “I shall test that assertion later,” he warned her, giving her a crooked smile.

"I hope you do. You know how I love a good... testing," Welkin said, arching an eyebrow at him suggestively. She gave him a little bow.

“Welkin would be grievously unhappy if Master Snape did not wish her to serve him. She will always defend Master to the death from those who wish to harm him or not extend him credit for a proper bar tab. Welkin would never wish to serve other than the noble House of Snape, Sir.” 

Welkin mimicked elf lingo and winked at Severus before she trotted off on her errand, the button still flashing annoyingly.

* * *

 _Dragon slayer, my arse—the man's nothing but a fraud and a coward,_ Draco thought.

Across the room, Draco Malfoy sat alone, holding a drink he had bribed one of the other customers into buying for him. It was a curious sight to those who knew him well—or thought they knew him. Crabbe and Goyle, those hulking figures who had always flanked him as his personal minions since day one of his enrollment at Hogwarts, were nowhere in sight. Draco nursed the firewhisky, not really caring for the taste of the crude stuff, but liking the effect of being seen drinking it. It suited his new intimidating Death Eater image of himself.

Draco watched Severus Snape's interaction with his wife and observed the way she had leaned in to whisper something intimate to him before flitting over to the bar. He saw how Snape now sat observing her every move, as if she were some precious pile of goblin treasure that he was guarding like a watchful, jealous dragon. _Considering that Snape had just recently slain one himself, he should know that dragons like him were not invincible. Only the Dark Lord was impervious to defeat._

Draco watched passively, resenting them both—Snape for still being there to guard her, and Welkin for having a husband to watch over her, when Draco's father was rotting in Azkaban. 

_Wasn't Snape supposed to be his father's friend? Wasn't he supposed to be a loyal Death Eater? Yet he'd done nothing at all to prevent his 'friend' Lucius from being captured after the disastrous skirmish at the Department of Mysteries with Potter and his adoring apostles. Why hadn't Snape been there to do the Dark Lord's bidding?_

_It wasn't fair that Snape still had his wife and child, while he and his mother were alone._

They were alone except for Draco's Aunt Bella, who totally agreed with Draco's jaundiced view of things. 

Snape should have been there, she had commiserated with him in the aftermath. He was not to be trusted, Bella had impressed upon Draco numerous times, despite Snape's 'empty promises' and false claims that he wished to help. If it weren't for Severus Snape and his lack of backbone and loyalty, she had insinuated her views into Draco's ears, Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be sitting in Azkaban now like 'a common criminal'. The humiliation of it, and the way many of the students at Hogwarts looked so condescendingly at Draco now, even many of the Slytherins, was almost more than Draco could bear. It was only the fact that he knew how superior he was to all of them that helped him endure it.

Draco's aunt had previously been rescued from the Wizarding prison, along with her husband Rodolphus and numerous others, at the behest of Lord Voldemort, who had quickly oozed into the void left in Draco's life by the absence of his father. Draco had hopes that Lord Voldemort would arrange his father's early release in the same way if he completed his assigned tasks to his satisfaction. 

Without his father's guidance, Draco felt cast adrift. He had tried to pattern himself after the confident man he admired so much, adopting Lucius' beliefs as his own without question or much examination. He had thought that Professor Snape, a man he had once admired almost as much as his father, had shared those beliefs, but he now doubted that was true, and he was resentful of Snape's interference and attempts to ruin his chance to prove himself useful to Lord Voldemort. 

Draco continued to stare at Snape as Welkin returned to their table, bearing two large glasses of firewhisky.

Even though Draco knew he could no longer count on Snape, there were still times when he wished that he could seek his advice on the troubling tasks that Lord Voldemort had set for him. Bullying, condescension and intimidation were things Draco had no qualms about—but killing the headmaster? _Could he even bring himself to do such an unthinkable thing? What would happen if he failed?_ he wondered fearfully. 

He saw Snape glance in his direction casually, then quickly return his attention to Welkin. 

Draco usually had others to fight his battles and make sure that the pathways of life were clear and smooth, paved in gold Galleons for him. Now, he had no one but himself and his mother, who had been entrusted to his protection by his father before they took him away. Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxas Malfoy, expected Draco to do no less than uphold the Malfoy family honor and traditions anyway that he had to.

It was too late to have second thoughts. As his father had done before him, now Draco was bound irrevocably in service to the Dark Lord, and his arm bore the Dark Mark, the burning emblem of his pledge of eternal fealty.

Draco took another sip of his drink and nervously fingered the latch of the leather pouch on the seat at his side. Inside the pouch was a very special artifact recently acquired from Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley. He would be slipping the package to Madam Rosmerta before he left, along with her orders of what to do with it.

_Would she follow her orders? She wouldn't have a choice._

The neophyte Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, was about to perform his first Unforgivable Curse on her and she would act as his proxy to send the cursed Opal necklace on its way to Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

"Compliments of the house," Welkin told him, setting the two doubles down on the table. "All of our drinks are free tonight. Madam Rosmerta seems pretty impressed by you after hearing the outrageous stories that have been going around about you rescuing me. The last person who mentioned it to her said you saved me from a dragon, a Chimera and a pack of rampaging Unseelie intent on carrying me off to their dark lair. I'm surprised you haven't been asked for your autograph yet."

Snape gave a dismissive snort as he lifted his drink to his lips. "Madam Rosmerta is far too gullible if she falls so easily for such embellishments," he told Welkin. "She has always had an unfortunate tendency to favor the Quidditch stars, self-proclaimed celebrities and other arrogant Gryffindor types."

"You sound a little bitter about that," Welkin said suspiciously. She turned her head back in the attractive pub owner's direction and gave her a little closer scrutiny. "Pretty, isn't she?" she asked him a little too casually.

Snape smirked at her. "I would suppose that she is... if one prefers her type. I find her a bit on the pedestrian side, personally. She does have a head for business however and she might have made an admirable Slytherin, had she been so Sorted." 

That was the closest thing to a compliment that Welkin had heard Severus ever give another woman.

"She has nice hair, and a great figure for her age," Welkin continued, quaffing from her own drink and continuing to stare at the buxom blonde, as the brazen hussy just kept ogling her Severus.

"I much prefer your hair and form," Snape told her matter-of-factly. 

"Really?"

"No, of course not. I merely said that to see how gullible you might be," Snape teased poker-faced.

"Asshole," Welkin said equally blandly. She twisted in her chair to scan the room, spotted Draco and twisted back hurridly. "What's Draco doing here by himself? He looks like he'd like to strangle us both," she observed.

"He probably would," Snape told her. "Fortunately, he does not have the skills."

"It's not our fault his father got himself thrown in Azkaban," Welkin objected. "You're just trying to help him out of the mess he's gotten himself in. He's an ungrateful little dumbass, if you ask me."

Welkin watched the corners of Snape's lips slowly quirk up in a tight smile. 

"I would tend to agree with that evaluation these days."

Snape watched as Draco rose and made his way over to Rosmerta to pay his tab. Draco extracted something from his bag and shoved it across the bar at her. Snape saw her look up at the boy and stare at him, apparently listening to whatever he was saying with rapt attention. As she stared at him the tension slowly eased from the muscles of her face. Unblinkingly, she finally smiled broadly at Draco and mouthed something at him, slipping whatever he had offered her under the bar out of sight. 

"So much like Lucius," Snape shook his head, assuming what he had just seen must be the exchange of a token between lovers. Rosmerta, though usually discreet about it, wasn't above dallying with a favored youth from Hogwarts Academy occasionally when it suited her. Rumor had it that she particularly favored the ones who could provide expensive and rare gifts to show their appreciation for her attentions. If anyone could afford to woo her in that way, it would be a Malfoy. 

Snape shrugged and turned his attention back to Welkin. He had given an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco, but not from sexual misadventure.

"Draco's not as bad as Lucius," Welkin responded, thinking he had directed his remark about the boy at her. 

"I sincerely hope not," Snape agreed. "Shall we finish our drinks and then remove ourselves to a venue where we both might be more comfortable?"

Snape frowned as yet another gaggle of teenage witches trooped by their table unnecessarily, throwing simpering looks at him. The celebrity that his status as a dragon slayer had brought to him was wearing thinner by the minute.

"Perhaps the _Hog's Head_ ," he suggested. At this late hour most of the customers there would be older and already deeply inebriated and much less inclined to point and stare at him. _Was this what it was like for Potter?_ he wondered. It almost made him regret adding his own scathing remarks to the angst that was usually swirling about the boy.

Welkin looked at him oddly and her eyes widened. "Oh, not the _Hog's Head_ ," she said hastily. "Not tonight, anyway. Let's just stay here for a while. We can move to that table over there if you want. It's a little more secluded and you won't be noticed as much there."

Snape narrowed his eyes at her. _She was usually so anxious to go there. Why didn't she want to go tonight?_

"Speaking of the _Hog's Head_ , I've been meaning to ask you something." Welkin changed the subject quickly, but not completely. "See that girl over there sitting with her friends—the one from the Gryffindor Quidditch squad—the one called Katie Bell? Is she related to Julien Bell, the piano player at the _Hog's Head?_ " 

"She is a very distant cousin of his, I believe," Snape confirmed. "I do not believe the families associate with one another very often. Understandable, since most of that branch have been Sorted Gryffindor. Julien's parents were Sorted Slytherin, as was he."

"What's wrong with being Gryffindor? What if I'd been Sorted Gryffindor? Would you have kicked me to the curb over something so silly as that?" Welkin demanded.

"Of course not," Snape protested. 

"What about Sully? What if he gets Sorted Gryffindor? You're not gonna give him a hard time about it, are you?" 

"Sullivan will not be Sorted Gryffindor. He is already exhibiting many outstanding Slytherin traits. He is clearly destined for greatness," Snape said with pride.

"Minerva thinks he needs more discipline," Welkin told him. "He is a little bit rambunctious at times, I guess. If only he wasn't so _stubborn_."

"That is absurd, Welkin. Sullivan is merely very engaged with his surroundings, as any child of superior intelligence should be. Minerva McGonagall should cease casting these unfounded aspersions upon our child and focus her attention upon that Unholy Trio of miscreants in her own House, whose every bending and breaking of the rules she and Dumbledore continually overlook or attempt to justify." 

"Stop preaching at me! I didn't say it—she did! All I said was I wish he wasn't quite so stubborn!" Welkin said.

"Why do you not wish to go to the _Hog's Head?_ " Snape circled back to the original topic. "Why were you asking about Julien Bell? Does your reluctance have something to do with him? Has he made improper advances to you? If he has I shall..." 

"No, no! Nothing like that! I was just curious, that's all. I don't want to go to the _Hog's Head_ because... well... because I might get talked into singing if we go there and I'd much rather spend time with you," Welkin said. 

Part of that was true. She really would rather spend time with him. But the real reason she didn't want to go there actually did involve Julien Bell. Welkin knew that Hermione often met Julien there on the weekends when Welkin was not slated to sing there, and she had promised to keep Hermione's secret as long as Severus didn't ask her about it. If Severus saw them together, he would most certainly ask her about it and she would have to tell him. 

Snape continued to observe her suspiciously, noting that her body language did not match what she was telling him. There was something she was concealing. He was certain of it.

"Wells," he said softly, tilting her chin up to make her look at him instead of her drink on the table. "Look at me... Are you telling me the truth? The whole of the truth?"

 _Shit!_ Welkin thought. _Why did you have to ask me that?_ The inflection in that voice of his made her feel incredibly aroused and incredibly guilty at the same time. It always weakened her resolve to the point where...

"I don't want to go there because Hermione's probably there with Julien!" Welkin blurted out. A few people at a nearby table turned their heads in their direction and Welkin groaned, hoping they had no idea which Hermione she was talking about. If they did, she was fucked. Hermione would be furious with her.

Snape's voice got even softer and more deliberate. "Do you mean to tell me that Hermione Granger is having an assignation with Julien Bell?"

Welkin scooted her chair closer to his and lowered her own voice. "They're in love, Sevvy. Please don't be mad at me. I promised I wouldn't say anything unless you asked me."

"I am not angry with you, Wells. I am surprised that you would sanction this with your silence. She is still a girl and he is a grown man. But that is not the thing which concerns me. Julien has attempted to join the ranks of the Death Eaters in the recent past. I warned you about that before. You knew that, and yet you said nothing. Miss Granger may be putting herself in danger by associating with him."

"But that was nearly five years ago," Welkin said. "He's never once said anything to me that sounds like someone who is a Voldemort sympathizer. I think he really loves her. He couldn't possibly hurt her... could he?" Welkin finished uncertainly.

"Would you wish to leave that to chance?" Snape asked. 

"What can we do about it?" Welkin asked his advice.

" _We_ shall do nothing. Since you are the one who appears to be drawn into the girl's confidence, you must be the one to tell her this information concerning Julien Bell. Then it will be her choice. But at least it will be a choice made holding all the facts," Snape said.

She knew he was right. She dreaded it, but as much as she didn't want to, Welkin knew she would have to be the one to burst Hermione's romantic bubble. But tomorrow would be soon enough. Let them have another happy, uncomplicated night together first.

"Can we just go get Sully and go home? I'm not feeling very festive after all," Welkin said sadly.

"Of course, my love. Wait here and I shall retrieve our cloaks," he told her, sounding contrite that he had ruined her evening out. 

On the walk to Violet Murdoch's home, Snape did everything he could think of to bring her out of her low mood. By the time they were walking up the pathway to the short stone fence that surrounded the homey little cottage, he had mostly succeeded. Welkin was laughing softly at his latest witty observation about the denizens of Hogsmeade as he opened the gate for her. She loved it when he was like this. It was almost as if no real trouble existed in their world at all. 

When Snape knocked at the door, they heard the sound of footsteps and then saw Violet peep at them through the window before letting them in.

"What are you two doing here so soon?" she asked. "I wasn't expecting you back for at least another two or three hours. Is anything the matter?" she asked with concern. "Come in and have a seat and have a chat."

"Nothing's wrong. We just decided we'd had enough night life and wanted to pick him up early," Welkin said. "Can we have our chat some other time, Mrs. Murdoch? Where's Sully? Asleep?" 

"I'm afraid not. When he realized you'd slipped away on him, he threw a right proper little tantrum at first, but then he settled down and decided to explore a bit," she smiled at them.

Sully used to crawl to explore, but now had advanced to pulling himself upright onto his feet and making his way around a room by holding onto various objects. At the sound of their voices in the entry, he had come to investigate, and his little mop of dark hair appeared around the corner of the door as he clung to it, wobbling on his feet a bit.

Sullivan Snape's dark eyes darted to his father's tall, darkly cloaked figure first, then back to his mother. 

"Hey, Sully! Are you ready to go home? Come to Mama! We'll get your nice warm coat on and get your things and go home. Would you like that?"

Welkin squatted down and held her arms out for him to totter into. 

Sully stood staring at the woman who had tricked and abandoned him earlier, as if undecided whether to accept her embrace. A pout began to form on his lips and his face began to flush as a whimper escaped.

"Don't pout, Sully. Mama's back. She just went to play with Daddy for a while. Don't be mad, Baby."

Sully didn't look at all as if he was buying that explanation as a valid excuse. He bounced up and down unsteadily on his feet, still clutching the doorjamb, and began to cry, the tears spilling out of his eyes like rain from a storm cloud. He lost his grip and wobbled once before crashing to the floor on his well-padded bottom. 

Apparently angered even more by his inability to control his movements, Sully's face grew redder and his brow knit as he frowned.

Welkin started towards him to scoop him up. She had almost reached him when he looked up at her, red-faced with baby fury and shouted one four-lettered expletive quite loudly and clearly.

"My word!" Mrs. Murdoch looked shocked as she covered her mouth with one hand. 

Welkin, on the other hand, looked guilty for the second time this evening. The word was one she was quite familiar with since she used it herself so often.

She looked up at Severus as she cradled the crying Sully. 

"Oh, Severus! I'm so sorry! I promise I'll try not to say it in front of him anymore!"

Severus bent and helped her to her feet, Sully sandwiched between them. 

"Welkin," he began severely, and she apprehensively waited for the other shoe to fall, expecting another lecture from him. 

"At least we know one thing from this incident," he continued. He paused until she had to ask.

"What do we know?"

"At least we know that, although Sullivan still has trouble with his ess sounds," Snape announced surprisingly calmly, "he obviously has no trouble at all with his eff sounds."

* * *


	59. Much Ado About Sully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin fight bedtime battles with Sully. Welkin devises a plan to keep the baby safe. Voldemort summons Snape to conference increasingly more often, causing Welkin to worry.

* * *

"See? Good as new!" Welkin stuck her ankle in Severus's face and wiggled it about insistently like an Owl waiting for a message to be attached, until he was forced to put down his book and pay attention.

"Despite what you may hear about me from the students, Wells, I am neither an overgrown bat nor blind to the infractions of Slytherins such as yourself. I can see your wound has healed nicely without you thrusting it at me quite so closely." He grasped her ankle anyway and inspected the small puckered scar that decorated it as a souvenir left by the dragon’s breath.

Apparently his inspection wasn’t quite complete, because he slid his hand smoothly up the calf of her leg—which was what Welkin intended all along.

“Your hands are cold!”

Snape stuck the tip of his tongue against the small, white scar and licked at it, running it wetly up the inside of her leg as far as he could reach.

“Is that better?”

“Much... but I thought you wanted to read.”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough. Tonight I believe that you have need of a more thorough inspection from me.” He had been tonguing his way upward on first one side then the other as he spoke and now he abandoned her thighs in favor of exploring the moist, hot rivulet between them.

As the lights dimmed a little Welkin lay back comfortably and closed her eyes, sighing with pleasure as he lashed his tongue back and forth across her, making her juices flow freely into his mouth. She felt him slide his hands beneath her to cup each cheek of her ass, lifting and parting her.

“Let me taste your sweetness, my love,” he urged. “Release it to me.” 

A pulsating light from the orb of blue crackle glass on the bedside table drew his attention and the muffled sounds of Sully fussing and whimpering followed close behind the appearance of the gently flashing lights.

Welkin sighed and opened her eyes. When Severus had first produced this magical version of a baby monitor she had thought it very clever and a fine idea. Now that it had interrupted sex for three nights running, she was not so sure of that anymore.

"I'll go this time... Just relax. I'll try to get him to sleep again and be right back," she promised. She sprang from the bed, shook her nightgown back into place and headed for the door to Sully's room, which swung open at the wave of her hand. 

"Relax... indeed!" Snape complained to the empty spot in the bed that had once contained Welkin. He rearranged his wilting erection, which had also been abandoned in favor of Sullivan. The cheeky little whelp had suddenly become an insomniac who was obviously determined to assure that they never produced another child to rival him for their attentions. 

Snape picked his book back up but could no longer concentrate on the words. He counted the minutes as they passed, his faint hopes that Welkin would be able to keep her promise to return to him in a reasonable space of time dwindled away after the first twenty-five long minutes. 

At last Welkin returned—unfortunately with Sully in tow, clutched in her arms and riding her hip, a look of triumphant pleasure on his smug little face.

"I'm sorry, Sevvy," Welkin grimaced. "I tried, but he's just not ready to sleep. Even the _Witch Princess and the Enchanted Goat_ didn't work." 

She got into bed with Sully, as she had each night of the past three, and deposited him between them.

As Severus watched, Sully scrambled upright and then lunged at Welkin, positioning his head against her breast with contentment. He fixed his father with a victorious look. "Mama," he said, patting his little hand against her in what Snape took to be a possessive gesture.

"It's just until he goes to sleep, Sevvy," Welkin pleaded, knowing what annoyed thoughts were going through Severus's mind by the tight look on his face.

"That is what you said last night... and the night before. Such a circumstance did not transpire. You are the one who fell asleep," he reminded her. Snape scowled at the little dark-eyed interloper who had once again robbed him of his wife's attentions.

"He is determined to usurp me in your affections, and I shall not countenance it another night." Snape rose from the bed, reached over and plucked Sully from her grasp. "The child has a bedchamber of his own and I am returning him to it. He must learn to sleep alone!" 

Welkin cringed as Sully began to fuss again, expecting tears. When they didn't come, she was surprised. Sully was throwing a bit of a tantrum but he definitely was not crying. She watched a little apprehensively as Snape exited with him into the other bedchamber. Severus was right, of course. He did need to learn to sleep alone, but letting him cry himself to sleep didn't seem like a very good way to teach him self-reliance.

Ten minutes later, Snape returned—carrying Sully in his arms. 

"For one more night only," Snape conceded, returning their child to her arms. 

Welkin smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you, Severus. I promise I'll try to stay awake tonight. And if I don't... after you've put him back to bed, just wake me up."

Snape grunted noncommittally, leaning back against the headboard with his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the wall in resignation.

“Severus... There’s something I think we should talk about concerning Sully,” Welkin told him as she stroked the hair on the baby’s head soothingly.

“What is that, my love?” Snape asked distractedly.

“Well... I’ve been thinking... if worse comes to worst, and you actually have to do what Albus has asked you to do... we can’t stay here anymore and it wouldn’t be safe for Sully with us if we're not at Hogwarts. I didn't want to send Owls because I wasn't sure they weren't still being monitored somehow, like they were when Umbridge was in charge. I’ve been emailing Glenn and he and Marie have offered to take Sully temporarily if we need some place to stash him.”

Snape turned his head to stare at Welkin as if the possibility she was suggesting hadn’t occurred to him before now. _So... that was the reason for her popping over to Spinner’s End so often lately. She was using the Muggle intra-netting device. Quite clever of her, actually, to assume her communications might be monitored. Perhaps the computer device might prove worthwhile after all._

“If it becomes necessary,” he said slowly, “I am grateful that you and Sullivan will have a place to go to.” The vein in his forehead twitched a bit, the only sign that betrayed his agitation at the thought of being without her. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Welkin said quickly. “I just want Sully someplace safe if the war heats up. And if we have to be on the run or something, we can’t go dragging a toddler with us,” she added practically.

“I wish you both to be protected. You shall both go,” Snape said, the vein giving another little pulsating jump as he said it. “This conflict is not of your making and I want you well out of it.”

“Well... as the song says... _you can’t always get what you want_. I’m staying with you. End of discussion about that. Sully goes—but I stay,” Welkin said firmly, her mouth set in the familiar stubborn pout he recognized. 

“If you think I’m leaving you here by yourself with Voldemort and all those Death Eaters, you’re crazier than a Bessie Bug!”

Snape was not quite sure what a ‘Bessie Bug’ was, but he was sure of one other thing—Welkin would not leave him. 

The tell-tale vein stopped twitching as he absorbed that comforting thought and he rolled over to encircle them both possessively with his arms.

Thus protected by his father’s embrace, Sully resumed his contented position cradled against his mother's soft pillow of a breast and closed his eyes, blithely unaware that he was still being discussed in low whispers.

* * *

"How did it go?" Snape asked, as Welkin began to unload food from the hamper onto the desk in his office. 

Severus was very fond of these intimate little lunches she sometimes prepared for him and Welkin thought that it made a nice change from the sameness of lunch in the Great Hall.

"Hermione hates me... that's how it went," Welkin said wryly. 

Snape arched an eyebrow as she fussed with the silverware, arranging it just so on the lacy cloth she had spread out to hold their repast. 

“Well... maybe hate is too strong a word. She thinks I’m trying to spoil things for her by telling lies about Julien,” she corrected.

“That impertinent little...” Snape began. 

“Oh, that’s okay, Severus. She doesn’t mean it. She’s just upset. I would be too if I was in her position and somebody told me you once wanted to be a Death Eater.” Welkin giggled. “Come to think of it, somebody _did_ tell me that... it was you! I just didn’t give a shit!”

“Miss Granger is a bit less... accepting of some things than you are,” Snape told her, watching her soft, supple hands position the plates and then apportion a generous helping of food to each. She reached into the food hamper to retrieve a delectable-looking Strawberry Fool and set it aside for dessert.

“I’ve had a lot more practice being accepting of things since I married you,” Welkin quipped. 

“In my perception I have been a model husband,” Snape claimed. “You should be more respectful of your good fortune in securing me as a mate.”

“You’ve been a model alright. A model of lechery! Not that I’m complaining,” she added, laughing as he inevitably drew her down onto his lap. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Welkin demanded, as he insinuated his hand beneath her skirt and tugged her panties down to her knees.

“Having an appetizer,” he replied, selecting the plumpest and firmest strawberry from atop her dessert.

She opened her mouth expectantly. He teased her lips with the ripe fruit, then dropped his hand and disappeared with it beneath her skirt. She felt him brushing it back and forth gently between her labia, inciting her to lubricate. When she was wet enough he inserted it and twirled it while stroking her clit with his finger, causing her to moan softly.

As she watched with anticipation he withdrew the berry and slowly brought it to his own mouth, sucking on it with obvious relish. She loved the fact he enjoyed tasting her as much as she did him. It was so damn erotic.

They shared a slow, deep kiss, his hand busy beneath her skirt.

Welkin reached out without looking and waved a hand towards the lacy cloth she had laid down. It slowly inched its way up and folded itself neatly over their plates. They could come back to those later.

* * *

Several nights later, as the sounds from Sully's room suddenly went quiet after only ten minutes of fussing, Welkin began to worry. It usually took much longer for him to quieten down. Surely he hadn't gone to sleep that quickly. Maybe something was wrong. She looked at Severus, who was pretending to be absorbed in his book and not listening to Sully at all.

She slid out of bed and started to tiptoe towards the door.

"Welkin!" Severus warned. "Do not enter that room."

"I'm not... I'm just going to crack the door a little and take a look. Just to see what he's doing," she explained. "I'm not going to go in unless something's wrong."

She carefully turned the doorknob and cracked the door just enough to allow her a view of the crib, where Sully sat upright, babbling to Snake. No tears were in evidence, she saw with relief. Sully yawned widely and lay down, his beloved Snake clutched tightly against himself. 

Welkin eased the door shut again and returned to the bed with a broad grin.

"It worked! He's going to sleep," she reported jubilantly. "We have our sex-life back!"

"Of course it did," Snape said much more confidently than he had when they had first started the regimen of ignoring Sully's fussing. 

It was then that her jubilation fled, as Welkin noticed Severus rubbing his arm, as he always did when the Dark Lord called.

"Not tonight," Welkin groaned. "He summoned you just last week. Why is he calling you so much more often?" she asked suspiciously. "What's up?"

"I do not know," Snape said thoughtfully, as he rose to get dressed. "We discussed very little at the last meeting. I am somewhat at a loss to explain it."

Welkin sat in the bed with her knees bent, hugging them with her arms as she watched him dress. She couldn't help but have a sense of foreboding, particularly since her dreams had been interrupting her sleep much more often of late. This time they were not as distinct as they usually were. They were dark, shapeless things that hovered over her like an incubus, troubling her sleep formlessly. All that she could ever remember was that they were all about Severus.

"Be careful," she warned him unnecessarily, as he hurriedly Disapparated.

* * *


	60. The Dark Lord Commands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape mentally spars with Voldemort and is forced to spin another story and admit that Welkin is not what he was led to believe. To Snape's dismay the Dark Lord plans another 'get-together' on Halloween.

* * *

Snape sensed immediately that something was causing Voldemort to be more guarded with him than he usually was. They each danced around it for nearly half an hour, mentally and verbally sparring, until Snape suspected that, just as he had feared, the reason that he was summoned alone here tonight primarily had to do with Welkin.

It was only when Bellatrix Lestrange interrupted them briefly with a communiqué for the Dark Lord and he noticed her appraising gaze on him as she left the room again that Snape decided he was certain he was right. 

He had suspected that Bellatrix was the one who made an attempt on Welkin's life and now he also suspected, based on Voldemort's sudden renewed interest in questioning him about Welkin, that Bella may have told the Dark Lord what she had observed in the Forbidden Forest when Welkin was fleeing the dragon. 

If she had, Voldemort would now certainly be questioning Snape’s loyalty again and it was imperative that he offer him something new to quickly restore his faith in him as a trusted servant.

"Milord... There is something else which I wish to report to you," Snape said with an air of cool detachment.

"Something concerning your wife, perhaps?" Voldemort responded equally calmly, but with a hint of irritation. He had already seen what wispy concerns he had been able to see about his wife that Snape had floating in his mind.

The blood congealed in Snape's veins as Voldemort subtly confirmed that he knew about Welkin, although just how much he wasn't sure. Snape tried to pretend ignorance of his meaning to him and continued with his supposed revelation.

"Yes, milord... It is something of no real consequence, but nonetheless something which I have only recently discovered and I feel I should apprise you of," he lied expansively. 

"Another of your wife's sexual intrigues—other than the one with Julien Bell—perhaps?" Voldemort was toying with him—trying to intimidate him. He fixed his red-eyed gaze on Snape, waiting for his response.

"Nothing of that lurid nature, milord," Snape continued unfazed. "In the course of... guarding my property from damage... I have recently discovered that she has lied to me about her true nature."

"And what nature is that?" Voldemort asked a bit more harshly than before.

"She is not a Muggle as I was led to believe. I have discovered that she is a magical—though not a particularly skilled one—since she is an American and apparently had no formal schooling in the Craft until Dumbledore took it upon his meddlesome self to tutor her in the use of a wand." 

Snape noticed that Voldemort did not seem particularly surprised at his news.

"Tell me, Severus, why is it that your wife would choose to conceal this from you?" Voldemort asked. "How was she able to conceal it so well from you for nearly two years? That you were so easily duped does not speak well of your abilities or usefulness as a spy to me, does it?" Voldemort asserted. "But it does contradict your assessment of her skills, since she was able to fool you so completely, according to your own account."

"I have questioned her quite extensively—and painfully—in this matter and she has admitted to me that she had known of my proclivity for uncomplicated sexual liaisons with Muggle females and sought to use that pretense, as well as her sexual charms, to ensnare me as a husband. I beg forgiveness that my preoccupation with my personal appetites and desires have resulted in my inadvertently misleading you, milord.” 

Snape stood stiffly awaiting his fate, steeling himself for the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. One of few of the Dark Lord's trusted advisors who had been spared the excruciating pain of punishment in this way, he was not looking forward to giving up his virgin status in that respect. He felt Voldemort probing at his mind a bit more aggressively and shielded himself as only he could, allowing just the thoughts he wished the Dark Lord to see.

After long, agonizing minutes, when Voldemort had dissected his thoughts as expertly as a Muggle surgeon wielding a scalpel, the Dark Lord turned away and returned to his seat at the massive table.

“I cannot pretend that I am not disappointed in your gullibility where the lady in question is concerned,” Voldemort told him, motioning for him to sit. “However...” 

Voldemort raised one claw-like white hand and pointed at the crystal decanter on the table, which levitated into the air. The stopper removed itself and the container poured a stream of ruby-red wine into one of the stemmed glasses. The glass slid across the distance between them and came to rest in front of the now seated Snape in invitation.

Snape should have been relieved that Voldemort did not seem intent on punishing him and was now also addressing Welkin as a ‘lady’ instead of the usual disgusting epithets he was accustomed to call her when he thought she was a Muggle. Instead, the change in his manner towards her raised another alarm deep inside him, in the feelings he had swaddled away where the Dark Lord could not touch and defile them.

“However,” Voldemort repeated as he continued. “I also cannot pretend that I am not greatly relieved that you have, albeit it unwittingly, chosen a more appropriate sort of wife befitting a Death Eater.”

Voldemort smiled slyly. “Although it will not be possible for Lucius to join us this time due to circumstances beyond his control, shall we say... I am looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with your wife. Yaxley tells me she is quite an ardent admirer of mine.” 

To Snape’s well-concealed horror, Voldemort’s smile broadened into a sharp-toothed, predatory grin.

* * *

When he returned from his conference with Voldemort at nearly midnight Snape didn't tell Welkin right away what had transpired and she didn't ask. She was so anxious to make love to him and he was so anxious to let her that he delayed the inevitable for a few hours until both their desires were temporarily slaked.

"It's a good thing tomorrow's Saturday and you don't have classes to teach," Welkin said, running her hands over his pale, sweat-drenched skin appreciatively. "I think I've finally worn you out."

"Do not be so certain of that," he advised, running his fingers through her hair, mussing it even more than it already was. It felt so good to hold her against him and touch her—to share her thoughts and his with her. _She belongs to me... and I to her_ , he thought with the periodic sense of wonderment he felt at the situation. It was happiness such as Severus Snape, always on the outside of a normal life before, had never really expected to have.

Oblivious to those particular thoughts at the moment, Welkin laughed and wiggled gently against his side with pleasure. 

"That's what I like about you, Snape. You're always able to pull off one more glorious, amazing fuck. Do you think we'll still be doing this when we're old and gray? Will you still want me when my tits are sagging and my ass is dragging?"

"Forever and Always, my pet. That is the beauty of wizardry. I shall be able to perform Wingardium Leviosa and a Tightening Charm on you and hold everything in place while I have my way with you." He arched an eyebrow at her wickedly.

"What of you, my love? Will you still desire me when my arse is scrawny and flat and my cock is as limp as a Carpathian Bloodworm?" 

"Severus... Don't be silly. You know I will." She reached around him and patted his bare ass tenderly for emphasis.

Welkin giggled at the image he painted of himself as a wizened old man with a limp dick. 

"Anyway, your ass is already a little scrawny but your prick is never gonna be limp... even when you're as old as Albus!"

"True," Snape agreed immodestly. He was quite proud of that fact, and not inclined to be modest about it in any way. He was happy that Welkin agreed with him, as he had expected her to.

“...and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee,” Welkin quoted, her voice a little muffled against his chest.

“Another Muggle Bible verse, Wells?”

“Courtesy of my Bible-thumping Sunday-go-ta-meetin’ Mother,” Welkin confirmed grimly.

“Behold, the man is become as one of us to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life...” Snape quoted back.

“You know the Bible?” Welkin asked with obvious surprise.

“Courtesy of my Muggle father... who seemed to think it his duty to turn me from the pathway to perdition due to my mother’s wicked heritage,” Severus answered wryly.

“The Bible’s not such a terrible thing... if only people like my mother and your father wouldn’t pervert it so. There’s really beauty in it in essence, Severus,” Welkin said with interest in this unexpected new topic for them to discuss. “There’s room for both the Light and the Dark... no matter what people say. It’s a matter of degree... and usage. One just can‘t operate well without the other,” Welkin said, stroking his cheek soothingly as she spoke.

“Maybe someday we can make our own Eden,” Welkin mused to him.

“There is always Avalon,” he teased. “It is much less mythical than Eden... and I daresay would be easier to find.” He pressed his lips against her forehead in a kiss.

“I have always appreciated your congenial attitude towards the Dark Arts,” Snape added. “You are my most apt pupil. Perhaps it is a result of your own wicked heritage,” he teased her again.

He threw a leg over hers and pulled her even closer. _How do I deserve such a woman?_ he asked himself again. It was a hard habit to break—questioning his own worthiness. _Perhaps it is as she says. There is no deserving. It is enough that she chooses me as I am and chooses to stay at my side—that she will never leave me—as I shall never leave her._

They lay still, breathing each other's scent, stroking each other gently for the sheer pleasure of it and looking fondly into each other's eyes until both finally started to speak at once.

"What did Voldemort want?" Welkin got her question out first, which was a usual occurrence in the Snape household. He had long since become well-accustomed to her rapid-fire delivery of questions and queries about things. It was much more unusual when she was quiet.

When Snape answered her in detail, he was surprised as she lay quietly until he was finished, not offering to interrupt him as she usually did. 

"I've been expecting something like this," she said. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn't it?" 

She also knew they had both been avoiding discussing it for the past two hours, choosing instead to occupy themselves with the enthusiasms of joyous sexual abandon before turning to things sure to be unpleasant.

He didn't answer, studying her face for signs of panic, but he saw none. A year ago he would have seen both fear and a valiant effort to suppress it on that expressive face of hers.

"So... the jig is up and he wants to trot me out like a prize pig and inspect me again, huh?" she asked with resignation. "When?"

"There is to be a party at Malfoy Manor on All Hallow's Eve," Snape informed her. "Narcissa has been commanded to host a banquet as usual even though Lucius is imprisoned, and our presence has been commanded in attendance. It is an adult party and Sullivan is exempt from the affair—do not worry on that account," he added quickly. "Voldemort seems to have forgotten about Sullivan for the moment."

"I hope he forgets about him from now on, or that could become a problem sooner than we expected." Welkin frowned. 

She suddenly remembered something else about the day. "We'll be having Sully's birthday cake earlier in the day anyway," Welkin said in an oddly dreamy way. "I'm glad it won't interfere with his special day."

"Are you certain you are quite alright, Wells?" Severus asked her, concerned that she seemed so calm. 

"Of course, Severus." She smiled at him confidently. "Why wouldn't I be? You'll be with me, won't you? There's nothing to worry about as long as we're together."

* * *


	61. Wicked Intentions - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sully's first birthday party is a big hit. Severus and Welkin attend the 'Death Eater party' at Malfoy Manor where Lord Voldemort and Bella both focus unwanted attention on them. Julien Bell's unexpected presence at the banquet shows he may not have given up his Death Eater ambitions after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This was getting way too long to be one chapter so I split it into two. This chapter introduces the new original character of Carmilla Malfoy.

* * *

"I do not see why Sullivan could not celebrate his natal day without the assistance of so many other people," Snape complained. "Fêting a public party seemed somewhat excessive to me, since he is only one year of age and scarcely noticed anything other than that overly large and oddly decorated cake you provided for the gluttonous delight of all those freeloaders."

"They're not freeloaders. They all brought gifts. Look at all this great stuff that Sully got!" Welkin protested as they started down the dark, narrow, spiraling stone stairway that led to the dungeons and their quarters. Both her arms and Snape's were laden with the numerous presents that Sully had scored from his party guests. 

"I can't believe you didn't like the life-sized three-dimensional Goat Cake. The house-elves did a bang-up job from the photo I gave them, and it was a big hit with the other kids. It looked just like Persephone, and Sully loved it. He was practically wallowing in it—he was so excited." 

Welkin smiled with pleasure at the memory of Sully laughing and struggling to get at the cake before they'd even lit the large green and silver candle on top of its head. She hoped Colin had gotten some good pictures. 

"Which reminds me—I do hope that Minerva has the presence of mind to properly Scourgify the child before she puts him to bed—there was cake icing matted in his hair when we left," Snape observed grumpily, interrupting her happy reverie about Sully and his cake. "And might I also ask... where exactly are we supposed to store all of these ridiculous items he has acquired? What was Albus thinking, presenting a child with this... this... alarming whirly-gig thing?" he finally decided to call it. "It is a veritable deathtrap of sharp and pointy edges. I shall not allow Sullivan anywhere near it." 

"Maybe we can Charm it somehow and make it safer. I'm _glad_ lots of people thought enough of Sully to show up and bring him gifts. It's not like he has anybody his own age to play with around here. You should be happy too, that he had such a good time, instead of complaining about a little icing in his hair," Welkin insisted. "I think you're just a little bit jealous because all of the attention was on him."

"It is not my fault that Sullivan has no siblings to cavort himself with," Snape accused, immediately seizing the opening and ignoring her not altogether untrue charge of jealousy. "Were it up to me, he could look forward to the imminent arrival of a sister before his second natal day. I have been more than willing and diligent in performing my function in this endeavor. You are the one who has steadfastly refused to cooperate and provide the child with the playmate he so obviously needs and deserves."

 _Willing and diligent doesn't even begin to describe it_ , she thought. Welkin rolled her eyes and kept walking, resolutely resisting the sudden unkind impulse to shove the love of her life the rest of the way down the stairs and watch him fall on that smug, sanctimonious face of his. 

"I'm not even going to dignify that biased attempt to saddle me with a guilt trip with a response," she told him. "Let's just drop it for now, please. We've got much more important things to worry about. We've got to get ready for the damn Death Eater party."

"It is not a Death Eater party, Welkin. Although it is true that some Death Eaters will be in attendance, many of Narcissa's guests will be mere supporters of the Dark Lord's, not fully initiated Death Eaters," Snape corrected her.

"Thanks for pointing that out. It makes me feel so much better to know I might be killed by a mere _supporter_ rather than a bona fide Death Eater," Welkin told him. 

The sound of footsteps headed upstairs in their direction silenced them both. Fifteen seconds or so later, a dark-haired female Gryffindor appeared.

"Excuse me... Professor Snape," Romilda Vane begged his pardon breathlessly as she purposely brushed against him while squeezing her way past them up the staircase. "Pardon me... _Mrs._ Snape," she offered to Welkin with a lot less enthusiasm, frowning at her. _What does Professor Snape see in that worn-out old hag, anyway? She must be at least thirty!_ Romilda thought with gleeful contempt, giving Welkin an appraising sidelong glance before continuing on her way.

"Silly little chit," Snape said, even though Romilda was still in range of hearing.

"You'd better be careful around that one, Severus," Welkin advised in a lower voice. "I heard she's been bragging that she's going to snag Harry Potter with a love potion. That girl's definitely loaded for status symbol bear, and I think you might be next in her sights. Careful you don't end up as her 'bare-skin' rug. If she took advantage of you like that I'd just have to kill her," Welkin said calmly. "I don't care if she is a student." 

"Neither do I. We could share a cell in Azkaban," Snape answered just as calmly. 

_Potter? Someone actually wished to administer a love philter to Potter? There really was no accounting for some people's perverse tastes_ , Snape thought with disdain. 

They reached the bottom of the staircase discussing the ethics, or lack thereof, in using love philters to acquire what they both agreed should be given freely. 

"We can sort out this crap later," Welkin said, once they'd made it to their quarters and tossed the birthday largesse onto the writing desk.

Snape gave a knowing smirk at her use of the derogatory word to describe what she had previously been characterizing as treasures beyond compare which Sully had received. 

"Well, okay... I admit it. Some of it really _is_ crap, but they meant well, and Sully doesn't know the difference," she insisted. "Let's just freshen up and get dressed in our costumes."

"Costumes?" Snape said warily. "I prefer not to wear a costume."

"You know it's a costume party, Severus. You told me that yourself. You want to make a good impression, don't you? How would it look to Narcissa if we show up not in costume? Voldemort might not like it either. This party was his idea, after all. We need to stay on his good side—if there is such a thing—which I doubt. So at least let's not piss him off too much if we can help it. I laid out your costume on the bed. I'm going to change in the bathroom."

Snape wandered over to the bed like a disgruntled child being forced to take part in a particularly detested school play. He looked down at what Welkin had laid out for him. 

"Where are my trousers?" he demanded. "I shall not wear a costume without trousers."

"You can't wear trousers with this, Severus. You're the Greek god Momus—the god of satire, mockery, censure and criticism. The god of writers and poets. With your rapier sharp wit and talent for invective, it's perfect for you!" she enthused.

"Flattery will not induce me to appear at Malfoy Manor without trousers," Snape insisted. "I will not be made the laughingstock of this party."

Welkin fixed him with a puzzled look, not understanding why he was getting so upset about it. "Why would anyone laugh at you? Why would you automatically think..." 

Welkin suddenly remembered what he had told her about his worst experience with James Potter, and she understood his fixation on having trousers. 

Severus stood staring down at the costume. She went over to him and put her arms around him. "I know what you're thinking. But those days are long gone, Sevvy. Nobody's going to hang you up by the heels and laugh at you, or wash your mouth out with soap. Nobody would dare. As far as they know, you're Voldemort's right hand man. And even if you weren't, what fool would dare to laugh at Severus Snape?"

Severus quirked a smile at her through the curtain of black hair that had fallen across his face like a dark mask.

"This white tunic is just a little above knee length. It's actually a very modest length. There's this green robe that you tuck under the leather belt and wear over your left shoulder, attached at the shoulder with this silver insignia medallion. I cheated a bit on the insignia and made it both a quill and a snake—for Slytherin. Your sandals are gladiator-style, like mine, and there's a great little silver and green half-mask that goes with it," Welkin pointed out to him. 

"Will you wear it? For me? Maybe you don't care about these silly things, but I _want_ to be the envy of every other woman there when they see you. I want them all to say to themselves—hey, how did _she_ get so damn lucky?" Welkin told him. "What about it, Professor Snape? Will you be my arm candy this evening?"

"I shall be proud to be your... arm candy," Snape agreed, quirking her another rakish smile. When she smiled back he suddenly captured her in his arms and began to kiss her so thoroughly that she thought he might never stop. 

"Severus... mmmmm.... Severus," she panted at last. "We'd better stop. We have to get dressed. If we don't stop we'll miss the rendezvous at the Portkey.”

“Very well, my love,” he said, releasing her reluctantly. 

“Wait until you see my costume. It’s pretty good too. Not as imaginative a character as yours, but I think you’ll like it,” she said as she bounded into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

When she emerged half an hour later, Severus was fastening his dark-green snakeskin sandals. She struck a pose and waited for him to look up. When he did, both eyebrows arched involuntarily at the sight of her.

“Diana the Huntress—Virgin goddess of the Chaste and Pure!” Welkin smiled broadly, brandishing her silver bow at him. She was dressed in a short, one-shouldered green tunic and silver gladiator sandals with slender, crisscrossed straps. A silver quiver filled with arrows was slung across her bare shoulder and secured in place at her back and to a slender leather cord at her waist. There were strands of tiny pearls woven through her shiny auburn hair and Diana’s traditional Crescent Moon Headdress completed the arresting vision.

“Goddess of the Chased is much more likely in that costume,” Snape muttered to himself, staring at the length of leg exposed by the short garment. _By Merlin’s beard, she was lovely! Too lovely and much too enticing to be on display for Voldemort and the sort of people who would be at Malfoy Manor tonight._

“That’s what I said... Goddess of the Chaste,” Welkin repeated cluelessly.

Snape hastily drew his wand and pointed it at her. “Vestis Totalum!” he shouted a bit too loudly, making her jump in alarm.

Welkin looked down at her altered costume in confusion. The skirt now extended to her ankles. “Too much leg?” she asked.

“Not anymore,” Snape growled. “Honestly, Welkin, do you _want_ to draw the Dark Lord’s attention any more than you already have? This is not a game! I am attempting to keep us both alive! It would be appreciated if I could gain your cooperation in that effort by you at least not flaunting yourself as if this were just another social occasion!”

Welkin’s confident smile faltered. Her eyes began to fill with tears but she tried to blink them back. “I’m sorry... I guess I just didn’t think.” She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. _How stupid could I be? What was I thinking?_ she wondered. _Obviously she wasn’t thinking at all._

Her cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment. “Maybe I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, and those people who think we shouldn't be together are right. Maybe I'm just fooling myself about how certain I am that we belong together because I want so much for it to be so, but I’m not really the right woman to be married to you,” she blurted out. "What if I'm hurting you more than I'm helping you? Maybe I'm just one more thing for you to have to cope with and it'll be one thing too many!"

“What? I never meant... No! None of that is true, Wells,” Severus backpedaled fast, the temporary hysteria leaving his voice abruptly. He reverted to a more normal, soothing tone with her. "You have said it yourself—we are stronger together than we ever would be separately."

“I’m going to get us both killed if I keep doing stupid things.” Welkin let the tears roll down her cheeks, looking up at him with a stricken expression. 

_God! I hate it when I'm like this. Weak! Useless! Get control of yourself! Stop whining and get on with it! He doesn't need this crap on top of everything else!_ Welkin berated herself harshly in her mind. Unfortunately, what actually came out of her mouth next sounded much too weak and needy to her.

“Some help I am! Albus was supposed to find you somebody who would be good for you—not somebody who would help you die faster. Well—look what the batty old cat dragged in,” she laughed grimly through her tears.

“No, Wells, please... I tell you that is not true!" He grasped both of her hands in his. "You are a great help to me—always. There is no one who Albus could ever have found who is more suited to the sometimes thankless task of dealing with me. No one I could love or need more. No one who could love me more. Please, stop crying. I cannot bear it when I make you cry.” 

“Then don’t do it.” Welkin sniffed back the tears. “It’s bad for my ego.” She smiled wanly. “I know you didn’t mean to, Severus. I know you’re just stressed and that made you yell at me. But please, try not to. And I promise I’ll be more thoughtful about things when I need to be. Maybe I'm just a little stressed too. If you see me doing something stupid that might put you at jeopardy, you just tell me or signal me somehow, and I’ll change it straight away.” She looked up at him with her huge, trusting, liquid green eyes.

“And you tell me when I am being an arsehole,” he requested. “Although I have had little success to date with permanent change in that respect,” he quipped to make her smile again.

Welkin laughed a little more. “The incidents are much less frequent than they used to be, believe it or not.” 

They kissed, which always helped to take the focus off of both of their deficiencies, and put it back on their joint strengths—where it belonged.

“I shall choose to believe it,” Severus replied. “But now, my love, if you will but collect yourself, I shall do the same, and we must be off to the Portkey rendezvous.”

* * *

"But we both saw him at _The Three Broomsticks_ that day," Welkin protested.

"Minerva insists that he was serving detention with her," Snape said. 

"Well, he fooled her somehow because he was here and he must have been giving that necklace to the Bell girl to bring back to Hogwarts," Welkin concluded. 

She and Severus were seated at a table at the _Hog's Head Inn_ having a drink, since they had arrived a little earlier than anticipated for the Portkey rendezvous. They were discussing the botched attempted assassination of Albus Dumbledore by use of a cursed Opal necklace, which they both knew was Draco Malfoy’s inept handiwork.

“How do you think he managed to be in two places at the same time?” Welkin asked.

“I do not know. Perhaps he made use of Lucius’s illegal connections to secure Polyjuice potion, or perhaps he is in possession of a Time-Turner. How he did it is of little consequence to me. I am more concerned that his erratic and slipshod methods in attempting to do the Dark Lord’s bidding will result in him being caught,” Snape replied.

That was definitely worrisome. Welkin frowned in agreement. Severus was bound by an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco. If Draco was caught, the completion of his task would fall on Severus. That was something they were trying to avoid, although there didn’t seem to be any way to do that. _There has to be a loophole we can exploit in the Unbreakable Vow. There’s always a loophole_ , Welkin thought. _Damn Albus! He wasn’t even trying to help them think of a solution. He wanted Severus to kill him himself when the time came. What kind of a fucking solution was that?! Severus would lose everything and be a fugitive!_

Welkin noticed a flash of color and movement from the hallway out of the corner of her eye and turned her head in that direction just as Julien Bell came down the stairway from his room upstairs, his arm cozily wrapped around a smiling Hermione Granger. 

“So much for my little womanly heart-to-heart talk with Hermione,” Welkin told Snape, nodding her head in that direction to make him turn in his seat and look.

Hermione spotted them staring and, with a clearly defiant glare at them both, made a great show of throwing her arms around Julien’s neck to kiss him goodbye before unhurriedly, and rather brazenly, leaving through the front instead of the side door.

Snape turned back to Welkin and picked up his drink with no outward show of concern.

“Aren’t you going to do something? I’ve already talked to her. Maybe you could talk to Julien,” Welkin suggested.

“I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. You have given the girl the facts as we know them, and she has obviously made her decision to ignore them. As far as I am concerned, both of our obligations in that respect are at an end. I have problems enough without taking on the adolescent romantic imaginings of a willfully oblivious little goose like Miss Granger. If her starry-eyed delusions concerning the dashing figure of Mr. Julien Bell are shattered at some point, I shall consider it retribution for all of the trouble she caused us when she flung herself at me.” 

Snape turned his drink up and finished it off in one gulp. “Shall we go outside? It is nearly time,” he informed her.

“Yeah... I guess,” Welkin agreed, rising from her seat to follow him. “Man, that’s a really cold attitude.” She shook her head ruefully at him. “She’s one of your best students.”

“What of it? I am employed to teach them, not to perform the functions that their parents may have failed to do and correct their idealistic assumptions about life. Would you rather I ran after her like a fool, attempting to wheedle and cajole her into changing her mind? Or confronted Bell like an outraged father and threatened him at wand-point?” Snape asked.

“Well, no. That wouldn’t work anyway,” Welkin admitted. “It just seems like we should try to do something. Hermione’s not so bad once you get to know her. She has a good heart. You know... with the elf thing and all...” 

"I am not at all impressed by the... 'elf thing', as you put it," Snape said bluntly. "She has treated that Weasley boy disgracefully, abandoning him as she has in favor of disporting herself with the first handsome face to spout insincere compliments at her. Were it not for you, I should think that all females are such faithless, disloyal creatures."

"Thank you... I think," Welkin said hesitantly. "I suppose that was meant to be a compliment."

They were out the door now and making their way around towards the back of the building, where a small complement of people were gathering around a battered old wooden bucket that Aberforth apparently used when watering his goats. 

“Sometimes, you are far too trusting and far too willing to see the best in people,” Snape said. “Let me be plain. I do not care what happens to Hermione Granger. She will have brought it on herself. Let us not discuss it further,” Snape said curtly. 

“Okay! You don’t have to be such an asshole about it,” Welkin muttered.

“Good evening,” she smiled as they approached the others, greeting the two robed and hooded men and the woman already standing next to the Portkey. They stared at her like she was a mildly interesting insect. None of them smiled back. _What a wonderful evening this is going to be_ , Welkin thought grimly. 

Several more solemn party-goers arrived as they stood there quietly, like strangers trapped in an elevator with each other, no one talking and all looking in any direction except at each other. As they were all wearing traveling cloaks, Welkin couldn’t even pass the time by admiring anyone else’s costume. The only exception to everyone studiously avoiding eye contact was one tall, dark, swarthy-skinned man who reminded Welkin of a vampire and had been staring at her impertinently with a nasty little smirk on his face ever since she and Severus had arrived. 

“It’s nearly time,” Severus said, placing her hand on the bucket along with his. The others did the same just as the last two people arrived. It was Julien Bell and a striking looking blonde woman who Welkin had never seen him with before. Her face still registering her shock, Welkin felt herself jerked away from the scene abruptly with a sickening and dizzying lurch. They were on their way to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Welkin was sticking as closely to Snape's side as possible, as they had agreed to. She had expected Narcissa Malfoy to be less than congenial to her, but had been greeted quite graciously by her when they arrived, much to Welkin's surprise. Snape had taken it in stride, pointing out to her later that Narcissa was beholden to him by virtue of the vow he had made to protect her son. That maternal gratitude had apparently been extended to encompass Welkin as well.

Severus and Welkin both nursed their drinks as they pretended to mingle with the several dozen other guests, not wanting to dull their senses since they both needed to be alert and cognizant to possible danger to survive the evening without incident. It had been forty-five minutes since they had arrived and Voldemort had not yet made his appearance.

"Who is that woman with Julien?" Welkin asked curiously. She and Snape had finally staked their claim to a spot at the right of the massive staircase and stood huddled together there after Severus had dutifully introduced her to all the right people, as would have been expected.

"That is Carmilla Malfoy, one of Lucius's cousins," Snape said. "Apparently, Julien is much cleverer than I had thought. He appears to have charmed his way into entry to this event through her."

"Do you think he's two-timing Hermione with her?" Welkin frowned with disapproval. 

Snape snorted a laugh. "I daresay he is, since the Malfoys are not particularly known for their pursuit of strictly platonic relationships."

Welkin watched Julien with Carmilla across the foyer, both of them dressed extravagantly in elaborate 18th century costumes. Julien smiled at Carmilla with the air of a well-practiced seducer and lifted his bejeweled right hand, stroking the back of it lightly down the side of her long, pale throat sensuously. He let his hand rest on her shoulder as Carmilla, in turn, stroked his arm suggestively with her folded fan.

Welkin waited until another couple had passed by them and lowered her voice. "Do you think he's just using Hermione to get information about Hogwarts and the Order?"

Snape looked a bit taken aback. "That possibility had not yet occurred to me... until now," he considered thoughtfully. "I had been thinking he might view Miss Granger merely as an amusing sexual conquest." 

"What if it's something more sinister than that?" Welkin pressed, her vivid imagination going wild.

"If that is a possibility, then perhaps you were right in the beginning. Perhaps I _should_ have a talk with the popular Mr. Bell," Snape said.

The polite murmurings of conversation in the foyer stopped abruptly. They both looked up, expecting to find that Voldemort had made his appearance at last.

Welkin's eyes swept the room and then followed everyone else's gaze to the top of the massive staircase, where a handsome, pale young man with jet-black hair stood perfectly still, one graceful hand poised on the banister, his face bathed in light reflected from the wall sconces, glowing as if he were an angel sent from God. 

"Who is that?" Welkin asked Severus again, as the murmurings started up afresh and the man slowly descended with a dramatically measured tread, step by step.

Severus didn't answer. He seemed transfixed by the sight, as did Bellatrix Lestrange, who had suddenly appeared on the opposite side at the bottom of the staircase.

"It can't be!" Welkin said to herself.

The tall, thin, attractive young man, who looked to be in his twenties, was dressed in a robe that Welkin recognized from a previous meeting, and was smiling a deceptively pleasant smile at everyone. When he reached the bottom step, even though he had never once looked directly at them, he turned and walked straight to them. 

"Severus," he acknowledged Snape's presence briefly before fixing his attention on Welkin. 

"How delightful to see you again, my dear," Lord Voldemort said, capturing her hand and raising it to his lips as he had on the first occasion they met—when he had resembled something much less charming. His dark eyes looked into hers hungrily—as if he intended to discover every hidden secret she had to offer.

* * *

.


	62. Wicked Intentions - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort examines Welkin with polite conversation and invasive mind techniques. Julien Bell explains himself to Snape. Bellatrix toys with Severus and Welkin comes to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also includes my original characters of Julien Bell and Carmilla Malfoy

* * *

"Is the food not to your liking, Severus?" Voldemort asked, assuming a polite tone as he turned towards him for the first time since they'd been seated at the banquet table. 

Snape had been ignoring the sumptuous, artfully presented food on his gold-rimmed plate in favor of following the curiously mundane but still potentially damaging dinner conversation between Voldemort and Welkin, whom the Dark Lord had unexpectedly chosen to seat to his immediate right at the banquet table in a prime position of honor. 

To Snape's expertly hidden displeasure and agitation, the Dark Lord had separated them. He had expected to be seated at Welkin's side, but at least he was directly across from her on Voldemort's left and could still keep a watchful eye and poised ear on the odd proceedings.

Why had Welkin been seated so prominently in full view of some of Voldemort's most trusted Death Eaters? It was another unexpected development that was quite troubling to Snape. So many of the guests at that table would have competed to the point of actually flinging hexes or worse at one another to be placed in such a position of honor at the Dark Lord's side. 

That disgruntled group included Yaxley, who was seated to Welkin's right, and Bellatrix Lestrange, who was glowering intermittently at Welkin from her seat immediately to Snape's left whenever she was not attempting to engage him in conversation. Not that he didn't want to talk to her. He needed to, at some point, to determine if she was Welkin's attacker, but not in front of an army of onlookers and eavesdroppers.

Voldemort was holding court at the head of the table, of course, with their hostess Narcissa Malfoy positioned at the foot of the table keeping a watchful eye on her guests, some of whom, such as Carmilla Malfoy, she did not seem to be especially pleased to see.

Snape regarded Voldemort, who had adorned himself in his magically glamorized form of Tom Riddle—perhaps the most troubling aspect of the evening thus far. Snape couldn't quite get over the anxious feeling that this attractive guise of Voldemort’s younger self was also strictly for Welkin's benefit. Voldemort sometimes intimidated talented witches and wizards into his service, but more often he executed his powers of persuasion through his personal charm, a more subtle and seductive means. 

Voldemort was a master at charming people into doing his bidding or getting the things he desired from them. He understood at least that much about what motivated people in order to make them succumb to him and his lies. _I know that only too well from personal experience_ , Snape thought sadly as he framed his response to the Dark Lord. 

"No, milord... the repast is quite splendid, I assure you. I merely find that having subsisted so long on the inferior cuisine at Hogwarts, my appreciation of and appetite for rich, well-prepared food is not what it used to be," Snape explained.

"What a pity... but I see that your wife's healthy appetite remains undiminished by such an unfortunate circumstance," Voldemort noted.

Welkin, who had been eating quite lustily in hopes that it would discourage Voldemort from talking to her too much if her mouth was continually full, paused with her fork in mid-air and looked to Severus uncertainly.

"Yes, Severus," Bellatrix agreed quickly. "Don't you feed that wife of yours? She seems absolutely ravenous tonight. One more bite and the seams of that lovely costume she's wearing might just split apart."

Welkin frowned. Who was that creepy, wild-eyed bitch to be calling her fat? 

"I doubt that, Bella," Voldemort contradicted in a clearly annoyed tone. "I find her costume—and the woman in it—quite fetching. I admire a woman with healthy appetites—and a form that reflects such appetites," Voldemort said with deceptive mildness, staring at Bellatrix until she nervously dropped her eyes to the table. When she looked up again, she glared at Welkin, who couldn't help forking the last bit of food into her mouth and smiling at Bella in a self-satisfied way as she chewed and swallowed with exaggerated pleasure. 

All evening, as the meal progressed to its conclusion, Welkin quietly observed as Bellatrix kept leaning in too closely to try to talk to Severus. Each time she laid her hand lightly against his arm or put her lips to his ear, Welkin fumed. What was she up to? Bellatrix couldn't stand either one of them, and now she was trying to practically crawl into Severus's lap—not that Severus had paid her any real attention. 

_She might as well be a big, black lace-clad mosquito, for all the attention Severus has paid to her,_ Welkin thought with approval. Bellatrix's annoying buzzing around him had been deliciously fruitless. Still, Welkin would be glad when the meal was over. _Not that I'm going to do anything stupid... like launch myself over this table and slam the crazy bitch's head repeatedly into it._ No, she would just sit here politely and fantasize about doing it.

"I couldn't help noticing one particular addition to your costume, my dear," Voldemort segued smoothly. He gestured with casual elegance at her silver quiver with one hand. "What a clever way to carry your... wand," he noted. 

And here it was at last—the magical elephant in the room which he had avoided during their polite, inane conversation—her wand.

Since Voldemort already knew that she was a witch, Welkin and Severus had decided jointly there was no reason to try to conceal her wand from him, and it had joined her silver arrows in her quiver. 

"Very distinctive markings. A Druid design, if I am not mistaken?" the creature who was once Tom Riddle remarked casually.

"So I'm told," Welkin said just as casually. "I really wouldn't know. I just use the thing. I don't really need to know the history of it to make it work, do I?" 

"I'm told you are quite accomplished with it... as a duelist," Voldemort continued, looking meaningfully at Yaxley. 

Welkin glanced at Snape again for a clue on how she should respond.

"She is but a novice, milord," Snape quickly replied for her. "Her abilities have been greatly exaggerated, I am sure. Her main accomplishments lie in other areas more appropriate to a wife... which I much prefer."

"I can well imagine that you would," Voldemort agreed with a pleasant smile as he locked eyes with Welkin. She felt the tendrils of his thoughts probing hers and entwining with them, and her back stiffened involuntarily. She forced down her revulsion and allowed the invasion, filling her mind with neutral thoughts of the food... the costumes... 

"And does your husband always speak for you?" Voldemort asked purposely.

"Yes, he does, milord," Welkin said. "I bow to his expertise as a wizard. Whatever poor skills I possess I owe to him... in every area." 

Voldemort chuckled. "Well spoken, my dear. But it would suit me to hear your own thoughts—and I think I would much prefer you in the original costume. Would you stand up?"

"Stand... up?" Welkin repeated. "Why?" She looked at Severus hesitantly.

"Do not question the Dark Lord," Snape ordered. "Stand up as you are commanded."

Welkin obediently rose from her seat as Voldemort did the same. With one graceful sweep of his hand, he recreated the image he had seen so recently in her mind. Welkin was once again the bare-legged Diana the Huntress, her lovely limbs unhampered by the long skirt Severus had conjured her into earlier in the evening.

"Much better," Voldemort said approvingly, and Welkin tamped down her anger as a number of people at the table applauded with sycophantic admiration at the stunt, as if she was tonight's featured entertainment. It was one thing to choose to display herself, but it was quite another to be forced to do it by someone she detested. 

Two of the people who didn't applaud were Severus and Bellatrix. Severus sat there in stony, impassive silence, and Welkin could have sworn she heard a low hiss of anger escape between Bella's clenched teeth. Voldemort didn't seem to notice either reaction, although she was certain that he had.

"And now, Severus, I'm sure you won't mind if I borrow your charming wife for a walk in the gardens, will you?" the monster said.

"Of course not, milord." 

Even as he said the required words, Severus wanted to kill him. He wanted to eviscerate him with Dark Magic, but no sign of that impossible desire to obliterate his 'master' must disturb the smooth serenity of his face. No hint of his worry for Welkin must crease his brow. Voldemort must never know how precious Welkin was to him or it would be their undoing.

Voldemort extended his hand and Welkin placed hers in it, knowing she had no choice. She allowed the devil in angel's guise to lead her away.

* * *

"Doesn't my new form please you? I thought it was rather a clever way to assume a costume for this evening, yet you seem not to appreciate my efforts," Voldemort said. "Perhaps you prefer my own form over this one," he conjectured.

"Whichever pleases you, milord," Welkin told him, trying not to sound too indifferent.

Voldemort held out Tom Riddle's pale unblemished hand with his fist clenched. As he relaxed his fist and let it open, a red swirl sparkled briefly above his open palm before solidifying into a beautiful red rose.

"Thank you, milord," Welkin said, docilely taking the offered flower.

"What pleases me... is that you drop this pretense," Voldemort announced.

"Pretense? What pretense is that, milord?"

"The pretense that you are a meek and mild innocent unable to discern my interest in you and reluctant to speak your mind without Severus present," Voldemort said. "We both know that you are a witch of some ability, and as I recall that Severus does not suffer fools for any length of time, I also know that you must not be one, whatever you originally led Severus to believe. You wouldn't want to insult my intelligence by continuing to pretend to be what you are not," Voldemort clarified.

Welkin considered her options quickly and reacted instinctively. Even a monster could be flattered.

"How clever of you. It took Severus nearly two years to find me out," she said and relaxed into a smile. "And as you know, he's a very clever and useful man."

"As I well know," Voldemort agreed. He moved closer to her in the moonlight and Welkin tried to prepare her mind as he put a hand under her chin to lift her eyes to his. She had been expecting this.

"Look at me... it is past time that we became better... acquainted," he said.

The rose fell from her hand to the ground as his eyes bored into hers. It shimmered and then shriveled, forming a small pile of black dust which blew away on the wind.

* * *

With furrowed brow, Severus hovered by a window overlooking the gardens which should have been much less lush this time of year. But, thanks to the Dark Lord's magic, the plants were all miraculously in full bloom. 

Welkin was alone in the garden being tempted by the serpent. The religious imagery sprang into his mind beneath the layers of control he had carefully built. He prayed that she would be stronger than Eve had been, and that his tutelage would be enough to shield her from the deceiver.

"Professor Snape, could I have a word with you in private?"

Snape turned from peering out the window into the darkness to face Julien Bell, who was now miraculously sans Carmilla Malfoy.

"As you seem to have extricated yourself from the clutches of your benefactress for the moment, I suppose that you could. But, I would speak quickly if I were you. Carmilla is not known to let her pets roam too far from her side for long. I suspect that she will be here to collect you at any moment," Snape said.

"I need to explain what I'm doing here so that you won't get the wrong impression," Julien said, ignoring Snape's sneer. “I think Welkin already has misunderstood, and I wouldn’t want any of this to get back to Hermione.” He twisted one of the ornate rings on his right hand nervously. "I assume that Welkin's told you about me and Hermione—"

"What you do with Miss Granger is your affair—unless it involves her in the affairs of the Dark Lord," Snape threatened. "Then, I might have to involve myself. My position at Hogwarts must be maintained. I will not allow a social climbing dilettante such as yourself to use Miss Granger in your attempt to ingratiate yourself with the Dark Lord by mining her for information. She has no such golden vein of knowledge concerning Dumbledore’s comings and goings, I assure you.”

“No... no... you don’t understand, Snape. I’m not using her. I care for Hermione. My interest in Carmilla is...” 

Julien’s earnest expression gave Snape pause to reconsider as the man hesitated, obviously wanting to tell him something further.

“Carmilla’s interest in you is obvious, judging by that prurient display you two have put on in public this evening. Your interest in her, I assume, is less honest or would be perceived as such from her perspective. You desire entry to the Dark Lord, as either a spy or a Death Eater... possibly both,” Snape concluded. “You are willing to use Carmilla for that opportunity, and you are willing to use Miss Granger for the advantage she might give you to advance in Voldemort’s regard.”

“No... honestly... Hermione has nothing to do with this, I swear it!” Julien insisted. He impulsively grasped Snape by the arm and Snape jerked away from him as if he was stung. 

“I do not care to be manhandled in such a familiar way, Mr. Bell. It would be best if you remember that in the future,” Snape warned.

“I’m sorry... I just...” Bell sighed in frustration, struggling with himself. “It’s just... I know who you are,” he said with a note of defeat in his voice. 

“Who I am?” Snape repeated.

“Yes...” Bell leaned a little closer and lowered his voice, but he kept his hands to himself this time. “I know you work for... the Order,” he whispered. 

“ _Muffliato_ ,” Snape said in a low hiss, quickly and discreetly casting the charm to muffle their conversation from others. 

“Are you mad? Whatever would make you think that?”

“Because... I work for the Order too,” Bell told him. 

Julien finally got a small bit of gratification from the evening as Snape stared at him with openmouthed disbelief.

* * *

Voldemort withdrew from Welkin's mind convinced of two things: Severus Snape was still a trusted servant, and his wife was so enthralled by Snape that she would do anything to see him advance in the ranks of the Death Eaters, even pretend to share Snape's unquestioning loyalty to his master. 

Snape's own sexual and mental mastery of Welkin was truly impressive, considering what a headstrong woman Voldemort had found her to be during his examination. 

_Strong will is to be expected, considering she has the blood of a talented dark sorceress in her veins,_ Voldemort thought. She also appeared to have some talent as a Healer, although the details on that were sketchy.

She had not liked having him in her mind and was more resistant to it than most could manage to be. She hid it well for a while, but her resistance had proved futile, of course... as it always did in the end. 

Welkin’s decisiveness and her intractable allegiance to Snape might prove inconvenient to him at some point in the future, but her magical talents and her body would be valuable. He would preserve her and Snape towards that day.

"Do you have a headache?" the monster asked solicitously as he raised a hand and pressed his fingers to Welkin's temple. "I can fix that."

Welkin felt a surge of power and then a strange languor. She tried to remember what secrets might have been exposed to Voldemort when he had attempted to rifle through her feelings and emotions for the things she had hidden, but she could remember nothing. It was disturbing to be so blank. She hoped and prayed that he had found nothing that might be damaging to Severus.

* * *

Snape lifted the Muffliato Charm as he saw Carmilla Malfoy approach. 

“Julien, you bad boy... so here’s where you’ve been hiding from me. I have important people to introduce you to,” Carmilla chided. Her red lipstick, her pallor, and her feral expression made her resemble a vampire as she glanced between them. She took Julien’s arm possessively. “Not that you aren’t important, Severus,” she smoothed it over.

“No offense was taken, Carmilla,” Snape said mildly. “I measure my value by my usefulness to the Dark Lord rather than by the limbs on my family tree as others might.” 

Carmilla raised her chin haughtily, unsure if Snape had intended that remark as a slight to her. _He’s probably just jealous of Julien,_ she thought scornfully. _He might be one of the Dark Lord’s favorites, but he’s ugly, crude and common. That wife of his proves it, if that’s the best he could get. She’s as common as he is._

“Bella would like a private word with you, Severus,” Carmilla said. “She’s upstairs waiting for you in her room at the end of the hallway. Come, Julien,” she ordered, her voice sounding like the snap of a dog’s leash bringing an animal to heel, and Julien walked away with her obediently as she flung some final remarks at Snape over her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t keep Bella waiting, if I were you. She’s not as patient as Lucius was with your peculiarities and presumptions. She’s used to people knowing their place in the scheme of things.”

Snape stared after her and considered his options. He could ignore Bella’s summons and probably should. But, here was his opportunity to determine whether Bella was behind the attempt on Welkin’s life. There was no way he would ignore that. 

Snape left his vigil by the window. If Welkin needed him, she would signal him as they had agreed. He mounted the stairs briskly and made his way down the hallway to the end to locate Bella’s room easily. 

“Come in, Severus,” Bella invited as he knocked on the door. 

When he entered, the heady scent of night blooming jasmine assaulted his nostrils and his eyes had to grow accustomed to the dim lighting before he spotted Bella lounging on a divan by the fireplace.

“Come and sit by me, Severus,” she requested.

 _Said the spider to the fly,_ Severus thought as he immediately determined to remain standing. 

As she rose from her reclining position, he saw with alarm that she was dressed in a scarlet red nightgown, not quite covered by a long black lace dressing gown.

“Forgive my appearance,” she said. “I was preparing to retire for the evening, but I thought tonight might be a good opportunity to clear the air and... settle some things between us.” 

The highlights in her raven black hair glinted as she shook her head at him. She toyed with a strand of hair and smiled at him wolfishly, which startled him even more. The woman was even more insane than he believed, if she thought there was any chance of her being able to seduce him. 

“There is only one thing that needs settling between us,” Snape said forcefully. “And that is the matter of your attempt on my wife’s life.”

“Why, Severus... why would you think I would do such a thing? I have no quarrel with your wife,” Bella simpered. She rose to her feet slowly and approached him since he didn’t seem inclined to approach her. When she was close enough, she looked him in the eyes.

"You've been known to kill for far less cause than a quarrel," Snape accused, "and why I would think it of you is not a question which is germane to the issue at hand. I know that it was you."

"You're bluffing, Severus. You forget how well that I could always tell it when we were younger." 

Bellatrix laughed and poked at his chest with one long fingernail. "But let us suppose that you are correct, and it _was_ me who attacked your precious Welkin. What would you give me to see that it does not happen again? Perhaps... a kiss?" 

She tilted her head to avoid his nose and pressed her lips to his, then laughed as Snape firmly thrust her away from him. 

"My, my... how fastidious you've become as a married man. Saving your kisses for your beloved, are you? Is that why you rescued her from the dragon's breath? Has the cold heart of Severus Snape finally been thawed?"

Snape involuntarily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at her until her cackle of a laugh died.

"Whose heart have you thawed, Bella? Certainly not the Dark Lord’s. Was it you at his side tonight, or has he tired of your unflagging devotions? How long do you think that you will remain at his side when you no longer have anything to offer him?" He regretted the words as soon as he had said them. The look on Bella’s face told him what a mistake it had been.

"Long enough," Bella growled, "because I'll soon have something else to offer him... a traitor!" 

Bella pulled her wand and stepped back to level it at him. _"Imperio!"_ she cursed him, and he staggered backwards and slumped to the floor on his knees.

* * *

 _Where is he?_ Welkin wondered. _He wouldn't have left me here with these awful people if he could help it. What if something happened to him while I was with Voldemort?_

She spotted Julien with Carmilla and, despite her anger with him over his treatment of Hermione, she went to him immediately. 

"Julien, have you seen Severus? I want to leave, and I can't find him."

"Professor Snape is upstairs," Julien said hesitantly. 

"With Bella," Carmilla told her smugly. "I wouldn't just burst in, if I were you. They're probably... deeply involved in something," Carmilla smirked. 

Welkin bounded up the stairs and halted at the top. _Which way? I forgot to ask. What the hell... I'll try all the rooms._

She worked her way down the long hall, opening and closing doors until she finally burst through the last door to a sight she wasn't expecting to see.

Bellatrix Lestrange was sitting on the edge of a divan with her nightgown hiked up and Severus was on his knees before her, about to get busy between her thighs, if he hadn't already. His head was jerking oddly, but when she rushed forward to pull him away from Bellatrix, there was an empty look in his eyes. He looked as if he were sleepwalking.

"What have you done to him?" Welkin shouted. 

"What have I done to him? Why, nothing, yet. But he's done quite a lot to me," Bella taunted.

"You've done something to him! He's under a spell. Undo it, you fucking bitch!" Welkin demanded and drew her wand from her quiver. "Undo it, or I'm going to make a flaming fricassee out of that nasty cunt of yours!" 

She pointed her wand between Bella's thighs, causing her to close her legs and leap up, reaching for her own wand. 

A stream of energy erupted from the tip of Welkin's wand and jolted Bella, slamming her into the wall. Welkin advanced on her and pressed her wand into the side of her face. "Undo it, I said, or I'll fucking undo you."

"Wel... kin," Severus croaked, fighting hard against the Imperius Curse he was under. He rolled to his stomach and crawled towards them inch by inch. 

"Well, well... I guess there's some fight left in him after all," Bellatrix giggled. 

Welkin grabbed her hair and tugged her with her as she scrambled to meet Severus the rest of the way. 

"Fix what you've done to him. This is your last chance. You can see that he's going to fight his way out of it anyway. If you want to come out of this without any permanent injuries, you'd better do as I say," Welkin warned. "And if you make any funny moves with that wand, I'll be the next one laughing."

Snape did seem to be slowly resisting the curse on his own. The game was over anyway, Bella conceded to herself—at least for the moment. She raised her wand and pointed it, speaking the words to release him from her mental bondage.

Snape jerked several times and slumped to the floor again with a grunt. Welkin checked his breathing and his eyes, which no longer had the faraway look they'd had before.

"Satisfied?" Bellatrix smirked.

"Not yet," Welkin replied. She leveled her wand at Bella. _"Stupefy!"_ she shouted, and Bella kissed the floor abruptly and lay there unconscious.

"Now, I'm satisfied." Welkin smiled and put her wand away. She scooted to Snape's side and tugged his head onto her lap. "Severus, you just lie still. Don't move until you think you can get up, okay? I knocked her out. You take your time, Sevvy."

"Welkin... I did not want to... I could not stop myself," Snape tried to explain.

"I know that, Severus. Don't you worry about that. She forced you to. You're not to blame. I'm just glad you're okay. That crazy bitch might have killed you." 

Welkin cradled him against herself. "Close your eyes and just rest a little until you're strong enough. Then, I'll help you up." 

Severus closed his eyes as she began to gently rock with him, humming one of Sullivan's favorite melodies.

* * *


	63. The Spy Who Loved Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin compare notes about what happened at the party at Malfoy Manor. Hermione confronts Julien when she sees him with Carmilla.

* * *

Snape and Welkin's postmortem discussion of the Death Eater party, as Welkin liked to call it, included sharing some interesting revelations with her, although Welkin was at a disadvantage to add much new information, since Voldemort seemed to have Confunded her to block her from recalling key portions of their forced communion in the garden.

"The Dark Lord could not have spent the entire time discussing Lucius Malfoy's collection of peacocks with you, Welkin," Snape insisted.

"Don't you think I know that, Severus? I'm not that dense. I figured he'd pull something like that to keep me from learning anything useful about him. He must have planted that memory in my head to confuse me. I hope he didn't find whatever he was rummaging around for in my mind. He let us both leave, though... so I guess he didn't find anything really damaging... do you think?" Welkin asked a little apprehensively.

"I would say not," Snape reassured her. "You did well, my love," he added, and she beamed at him for praising her and relaxed a little, no longer concerned about having revealed something that might harm Severus. 

She wasn’t that surprised when Severus told her that he had confirmed that Bellatrix was the one who had used the dragon to try to kill her. After the awful thing that she had done to Severus, nothing that psycho bitch did would surprise Welkin now.

“If it wasn’t for the possible blowback to you from Voldemort's reaction, I should have killed her for what she did to you!” Welkin asserted with impressive venom. “She forced you! That’s like rape! It's like what Lucius Malfoy tried to do to me!”

Snape cringed a little at the rape characterization, but assumed an indifferent attitude for Welkin’s sake. He did not want her to amplify the incident in her mind until she felt the urge to try to even the score further with Bella. He wanted her to stay as far away from Bella and Voldemort as possible.

“It was certainly... humiliating... but do not concern yourself any further with it. I am not permanently traumatized by it, and I do not wish you to dwell upon it,” he insisted. “You intervened before I was forced to dishonour myself and our vows, and that is all that matters to me.”

"I'm glad I found you in time... before that heartless hag could do something really awful to you!" Welkin said earnestly, putting her arms around his neck possessively. "It's just lucky that Carmilla Malfoy wanted to piss me off by lying about what you were doing with Bellatrix. Otherwise, I wouldn't have known where to go looking for you. I can't believe Julien would have anything to do with that conceited liar, whether he's having sex with her or not. She's a snooty, conniving, narcissistic bitch. It must run in the Malfoy family," Welkin remarked. “I thought Julien had better taste in women than that.”

Snape welcomed the change in topic as a way to divert Welkin from her still simmering anger at Bellatrix.

“Julien is not what he appears to be—in many ways,” Snape told her.

“What do you mean? What ways?”

“Julien Bell has been recruited as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix... or rather, I should say that he offered his services and was accepted,” Snape corrected.

He briefly told her everything he had learned from Julien at the party, adding in some rather pithy personal conclusions about Dumbledore and his lack of being forthcoming to him about the matter.

“But... why would Julien offer to spy against the Dark Lord? Has Voldemort injured someone in his family? It’s such a dangerous thing to volunteer to do without a good reason,” Welkin said.

“Mr. Bell did not deign to enumerate his reasons for undertaking the attempt, and the untimely arrival of Carmilla Malfoy prevented me from pressing him for more information at the time. He is young, ambitious and Slytherin. Perhaps he simply thinks that making himself of service in defeating the Dark Lord will stand himself in good stead with Dumbledore and the Ministry in the future,” Snape conjectured.

“So... Julien isn’t the two-timing snake I thought he was,” Welkin said. She cocked her head at Snape. “Hermione needs to know that. I’ll tell her tomorrow. If she catches him with Carmilla like we did, she’ll be crushed.”

“You will do no such idiotic thing. It would not be wise, and it is none of your concern. Mr. Bell should be left to sort out his own affairs where Miss Granger is concerned,” Snape insisted firmly. 

He steeled himself against the distraction of how enticingly near his mouth that her lips were and the receptive expression on her face. It would not do to succumb to his desire for her until he had made clear his point. 

Snape's news about Julien had definitely distracted Welkin, perhaps a bit too much, and Severus now began to be concerned that she would not be able to keep it to herself for long, despite his orders. She always had had a distressing tendency to blurt things out, and he had found it to be a personal quirk which he had labeled, by turns, both endearing and frustrating.

"But, why can’t we tell her? I don't think that's fair to Hermione to keep her in the dark about Julien working for the Order," Welkin argued. "It's not like she doesn't know all about the Order anyway."

"Fairness has nothing to do with it. It would not be wise, Welkin, and it could be dangerous," Snape explained again. "You know that. You are choosing to ignore it at the moment, but if you will think on it, you will see the logic behind the requirement of secrecy." 

Welkin narrowed her eyes and snorted at him. "You weren't all that concerned about the logic of keeping it totally under wraps a few minutes ago. In fact, you seemed pretty pissed off that Albus hadn't told you about it, if I remember it correctly. What was it you said... something about him not trusting you to get the job done and bringing in a rank amateur to spy on Voldemort... wasn't that it?"

"I _said_ that Julien Bell could not possibly gain the access to Voldemort that I already have, and I thought it ridiculously wasteful to exert so much energy in an attempt that is obviously destined to fail," Snape said curtly. "Do _you_ think otherwise?" Snape asked her in an reproachful tone. "I suppose you think that his handsome face will give him access in some quarters that I cannot achieve."

"Of course not, Severus. He's nowhere near the caliber of spy that you are," she said soothingly. She patted Snape on the back and gave him a reassuring smile. "And nowhere near as handsome as you are!" she added with convincing enthusiasm. "It probably doesn't matter anyway, because I'll bet you that Julien tells Hermione about it himself," Welkin told Snape, beginning to rub his back in the way she knew both soothed him and often incited him physically.

"He will be a bigger fool than I originally took him for if he does," Severus grumped.

"Speaking of fools... do you want this idiotic fool to stop rubbing your back like this? Am I getting on your nerves yet?" Welkin asked slyly, seeking to shift his attention away from the subject of Julien. He was probably right. She should stay out of it—and most probably she would.

"You may continue," Severus conceded to her pompously. "It is not unpleasant to me."

"Well, whoop-de-doo! Thanks for that rave review," Welkin teased. "It's nice to know that you don't find it completely unpleasant when I touch you. Now, if I could only extend that tolerance of yours to the times you disagree with me about something—"

Snape grasped her by the wrist and tugged her into his arms. "Have I been derelict in my attentions to you, that you have forgotten how your touch affects me? Would you like to tell me how it feels to you when I touch you?" he asked in his impossibly suggestive voice. He stroked her back rhythmically in the same way she had been stroking his before.

"It feels pretty damn great, Mephistopheles. You know that too, don’t you? Arrogant, insulting bastard...” Welkin smiled as she layered the insults on him with a well-practiced tongue.

Snape smiled as if she had just given him the Order of Merlin.

Welkin had often told him from the very beginning that she loved him just as he was, but it had taken Snape some time to realize that she truly meant it, because he often found it so difficult to love or forgive himself. 

It had taken him still longer to understand and trust that Welkin actually loved his flaws as well as the good qualities she perceived in him. It was more than her mere tolerance of his deficiencies. There was something about the bad things about him that she instinctively responded to and empathized with, just as he did with her own sometimes frustrating imperfections, although, from his perspective, she had many fewer flaws than he did, and they were much less destructive than his were. No one had ever died because of her, after all.

As he had hoped when he began stroking her, Welkin immediately plastered herself against him, and now she reached around him to grasp the skirt of the costume he was still wearing, hiking it up by degrees until he felt her hand slide under the waistband of the more conventional undergarment he had insisted on wearing beneath the tunic. 

He set his hands to the task of nimbly loosening the fastenings of her quiver, and it soon tumbled to the floor, silver arrows spilling across the stone floor along with her wand. 

“You are perfect... my love,” Snape crooned low-key and seductively into her ear as he lifted her off the floor and carried her to the plush black rug at the foot of their bed. 

“Yeah... we're both pretty perfect... a perfect idiot... and a perfect asshole... what an ideal pair,” she quipped, but the way that she said it was sweet to his ear.

“An imperfectly perfect pair,” he insisted as he laid her down gently and parted her thighs with his knee.

"Are we doing it the conventional way this time?" Welkin asked as she caressed the firm muscles of his thighs beneath his party costume and he positioned himself on top of her.

"You have another suggestion?" he asked before he lowered the upper half of her one-shouldered tunic and ran his tongue from the top of one exposed breast down to her nipple. He circled it wetly and trailed to the bottom, where he thrust the tip of his tongue beneath it and flicked it from side to side like a snake, slathering the soft flesh with his saliva. 

She cupped her other breast with her own hand and squeezed, capturing her nipple between her forefinger and its neighbor. The pink nipple beckoned to him from between her fingers, puffy and inviting. She closed her eyes as she felt his hand between her thighs. When she opened them again, he was looking at her with a hungry expression on his face. She was his food... his sustenance... his very life-force.

"How about a nice game of... horsey?" she asked unexpectedly.

Snape barked a laugh at her, immediately understanding her reference to Sullivan. It hadn't been humorous to him when it happened a week ago, but it was quite comical when he thought about it now. He tried to picture his own father ever finding such a thing amusing and failed.

Sullivan, who was often persistent in his attempts to roam at night, had discovered that he had the ability to magically turn the doorknob on the door separating their bedchambers without having to actually touch it. Flushed with victory at escaping the boredom of his own room, he had suddenly come pattering into their room at a very inopportune moment as he and Welkin were on the floor completely engrossed in one another.

With innocent enthusiasm, he misinterpreted what he saw, and with a happy shout of 'horsey!', Sully had scrambled onto Snape's back to join into their game. 

Severus was demonstrably mortified, and Welkin had been forced to struggle to remove the clinging, still squealing Sully from his naked back and return him to his own room, where she patiently explained to him that it was not play time, but Daddy would surely let him ride on his back tomorrow if he would just go to sleep tonight like a good boy. 

It had taken Welkin much longer to calm Severus down than it did to pacify Sully with promises. For once, when she returned to their room, Severus was no longer in the mood for sex. He was even less in the mood when Welkin insisted he had to keep the promise that she had made to Sully on his behalf. The next day, like a dutiful father, he had allowed Sully to ride him, although, more to Welkin's disappointment than Sully's, he declined to get down on the floor on all fours. He hefted him onto his shoulders instead.

"You're not still upset about that little incident, are you?" Welkin asked him now.

"I suppose not... he is his mother's son, and betwixt the two of you, I should be used to enduring these disturbing and undignified ordeals by now," Severus sighed in resignation.

“Don't blame it all on me. He’s his father’s son too,” Welkin reminded him. “He’s a lot like you, you know. He’s a very smart and stubborn little boy… but the warning alarm on the door should be enough of an alert now so that he won’t be seeing anything he shouldn’t see again. No harm, no foul,” Welkin concluded cheerfully.

"Except... that you have made me an indentured beast of burden to Sullivan, to be ridden like a Thestral at his leisure," Snape accused. "For that... I deserve just remuneration from his mother."

"I guess it's only fair, Severus," Welkin agreed. "A ride for a ride, so to speak, but I think I'm getting the best part of the bargain. I actually like to be ridden by you." 

Welkin grasped a handful of his hair and tugged on it sharply. "I'll remunerate your wizard ass plenty... c’mere...” She crushed her lips against his and he warmly responded in kind.

“What did you ever do to entertain yourself before you met me?” Welkin wondered when he let her breathe again. She should have known that she'd never be able to out-kiss him.

“Rumour has long circulated among the perpetually ill-informed in Gryffindor tower that I spied on Albus Dumbledore for the Dark Lord,” he responded with a smirk.

"Hogwarts and Hogsmeade are just full of spies," Welkin agreed wisely, and she segued smoothly into an appropriate song.

_Like heaven above me... the spy who loved me...  
Is keepin’ all my secrets... safe tonight  
And... noooobooodddy doooees it—_

Snape cut her off with another kiss, which was his favored method of distracting her when she unexpectedly burst into song like this.

Welkin threw her arms around him and embraced him tightly as her supple body relaxed against his warmth. 

“You may entertain me with your harmonies later. Now is not the time for a musical performance, Welkin. I have far better uses in mind for your lips and that sinuous body of yours at present,” Snape explained. "Will you surrender to me willingly, my love, or must I obtain your cooperation through the application of subterfuge and... excruciating torture? Rumour also has it that I am quite well-versed in both techniques. I practice Dark Rites in the dungeons at night, it is said."

"Make me surrender," Welkin challenged him, gripping him about the shoulders so tightly and digging in her nails so hard that Severus expected he would bear her marks on his back the next day. "Make me tell you all of my deepest, darkest secrets."

"We have no secrets from one another," Snape reminded her.

She grasped him by the hands and placed them carefully to cradle her face. "Then make me do... other things," she invited.

* * *

Hermione stood in the shadows by the doorway and watched as Julien passionately kissed Carmilla goodbye and helped her into her carriage, deflecting her invitation to join her inside for a more intimate farewell before she departed.

As the carriage rolled away, and he turned to walk back to the _Hog's Head,_ he saw Hermione standing there staring at him with a look of shocked disbelief.

He walked towards her, playing over in his mind what he would say to her.

"Hermione, whatever you think you saw... she was only my escort to a party I needed to attend this evening," he began his explanation. He tried to take her by the arm, but Hermione shook his hand off and backed away. She stood there fiddling nervously with the scarf at her neck.

"A party I wasn't told about and wasn't invited to. But, I guess three's a crowd. Why would you tell me when you'd obviously rather be with her," Hermione said, her eyes looking suspiciously moist.

"It's something I had to do... not something I wanted to do," Julien said. He reached for her again.

"Don't! I don't want you to touch me... ever again. I should have known better than to trust a... _Slytherin._ " She said the word like twisting a dagger into him. A brace of tears slid down her cheeks and her normal look of assurance was replaced with uncertainty.

"That's not a dirty word, Gryff. There are some honorable Slytherins, you know."

"Maybe... too bad that you aren't one of them," she said.

"So... you aren't even going to give me a chance to try to explain? I thought I meant more than that to you. I guess I was wrong." His voice had taken on a bitter edge.

"Don't try to manipulate me into thinking you care about me. If you cared, you would have been with me tonight... not her," Hermione accused him. She wiped the traitorous tears from her face with the back of her hand, hating that he had made her cry—hating herself for letting herself be tricked into loving him.

"So... it's chuck me out and back to mooning over that pathetic Weasley boy, is it? Just like that... it's all so easy for you, isn't it? Cutting off the feelings when it's not so convenient and doesn't fit into your neat little romantic fantasies about me anymore."

"At least Ron never lied to me! He might have had a girlfriend, but at least he did it to my face. He didn't sneak around behind my back! And he never told me that he loved me and then ran off to snog her," she defended him.

Julien stared at her silently, this child/woman that he loved, warring with himself on what to say next. He had been prepared to give her the truth. But would she believe him even if he did? What danger might it put her in if he did? _Maybe Snape was right. Maybe it’s better this way._

"Go, then. Run back to Hogwarts where you belong, little girl," he said as coldly as he could muster.

He watched passively as her lovely face screwed up in pain and her lip began to tremble... watched as the sobs were wrenched from her throat... watched while his heart ached as she bolted from his life and disappeared down the dark path to Hogsmeade.

* * *

Song attribution: _Nobody Does It Better,_ 1977, written by Marvin Hamlisch and Carole Bayer Sager, performed by Carly Simon, Elektra records, theme for the James Bond film _The Spy Who Loved Me_.


	64. Transfiguration Tango: Love Will Make a Wizard Out of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus thinks the Hogwarts house-elves are out to get him. Minerva gives Welkin a brief play-by-play of Christmas dinner with Albus and Aberforth. Severus blows off his teaching duties and house-elf suspicions to pull Welkin behind a tapestry for some much appreciated vigorous 'conversation'.

* * *

Snape sat frowning down at his gleaming golden salad bowl, muttering colorful imprecations against the gross inefficiency and suspected treachery of the Hogwarts house-elves. When muttering didn’t get the expected attention, he began to speak more distinctly and raised the volume of his curses above his usual whisper.

"My word, Severus, watch your language at table, please! We are in a room full of impressionable students," Minerva McGonagall reminded him unnecessarily.

"All of whom are much too busy gorging themselves or jabbering nonsense to one another to notice anything I might care to say concerning the lamentable lack of care which has been given of late to the proper preparation and delivery of my meals," Snape complained.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Welkin looked up from stabbing aggressively at her meatloaf and lima beans to see what he was fussing about this time. 

Severus could be a little finicky about his food if it wasn't prepared exactly to his liking, and the house-elves just couldn't seem to get it right these days. Perhaps she shouldn’t keep refusing to use them to keep their quarters tidy. Maybe they were still miffed at that and were taking it out on Severus instead of her. Despite their servile nature, they could be more than a little passive-aggressive on occasion, Welkin had discovered.

"For the third time in a fortnight, my salad is improperly prepared, although I have instructed the house-elves personally that this repugnant garnish is never to be used," Snape announced to her even more loudly and indignantly, as if raising the volume of his complaint would somehow help her to understand it better. As though Welkin needed more of a demonstration of the gross injustice which had been done to him, he was now looking at his bowl with an expression of repugnance as if it was filled to the brim with glistening white maggots. 

"They are obviously doing this on purpose as a vendetta against me," Snape charged. "Were Albus not absent, I would lodge a complaint immediately. I shall not stand for their insolent affronts to my dignity or their devious attempts to poison me any longer!"

"Oh, come on, Severus... You know that the Hogwarts house-elves are not out to get you. You're just being paranoid again," Welkin said calmly. 

Welkin leaned over to take a look and immediately spotted the problem. A profusion of very delectable looking black olives were lounging among and tucked under the verdant green leaves. 

Minerva watched in disbelief as Welkin calmly transfigured the olives in Snape's salad and replaced them with walnuts with a wave of her hand. 

"There, sweetie, is that better?" she asked him helpfully.

"Very much so," he confirmed. With a look of smug satisfaction on his face, Severus at last stopped complaining and started to eat.

Noticing Minerva eyeing her with disapproval, Welkin stared back at her boldly, because she was pretty sure she knew what the older woman was thinking, and it annoyed her. 

"What? The house-elves made a mistake, and I corrected it. Severus doesn't like olives in his salad. I was just fixing it the way he likes it. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing at all, I suppose... although, I would have thought that, as he is a grown man, Severus is perfectly capable of preparing his salad for himself, and I do seem to recall a time not so long ago when you might have been a bit reluctant to cater to him in that manner, " Minerva told her.

"I'm not catering to him... I'm just... being attentive to his needs," Welkin retorted a little defensively. "Severus does plenty of things for me too. Marriage isn't a one-way street, you know. Sometimes you have to make little detours to get where you're going. Anyway, I'm his wife and I'll do little things like that for him if I want to, no matter what anybody else thinks. It doesn't mean that I have to do it, that I feel obligated to do it, or that I've turned into some kind of disgustingly sweet little Susie Homemaker clone. I just happen to like taking care of my husband, that's all."

"If you say so," Minerva replied in her annoyingly superior way as she rolled her eyes and turned back to her lunch. 

As much as Welkin admired Minerva for her sense of ethics and her magical skills, sometimes that woman could really get under her skin. Both she and Severus seemed determined to give her terminal indigestion today with their petty complaints and obnoxious observations. First it was their prolonged and excruciatingly boring debate over the merits of the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quiddich teams, and now this. They were definitely getting on her last nerve and spoiling what had initially been a good mood when she first sat down for lunch.

Severus swallowed the bite of salad he had been carefully chewing and turned to defend Welkin just in time to see Minerva's expression. 

"Pay no heed to Professor McGonagall, Welkin. Minerva is perhaps too hindered by the characteristic Gryffindor self-absorbed attitude to judge the wisdom of what you say. She cannot comprehend that a wife's most important function is to attend to her husband's needs with alacrity," he said arrogantly. 

Minerva smiled knowingly as Welkin nearly choked on her iced tea and jerked her head sharply back towards Snape.

"Wait just a cotton pickin' minute! That's not what I meant at all! You just don't know when to quit when you're ahead, do you?" Welkin replied in a snit as that last nerve snapped.

Snape stared back at her with a nonplussed expression. "I do not understand... I was merely agreeing with you that I am your most important responsibility in our marriage, just as you are mine," he said, unintentionally compounding his clueless declaration.

Minerva was shaking silently with laughter as she pretended to be engrossed in the food on her own plate. 

"Welkin, please explain why you are becoming agitated when I am being completely supportive of your natural desire to serve your husband?" Severus requested.

“Oh, for Merlin's sake! Shut up and just eat, or I'm going to let my natural desire to just strangle you take over! We’ll talk about it later. If you’d just learn to eat what’s on your plate without whining about it like a two-year-old, mealtime would be a lot more pleasant around the Great Hall,” Welkin snapped.

The astonished look on Snape’s face made her regret what she’d said to him instantly. She could tell that he was both angry and hurt by her tart dismissal, because the vein in his temple was twitching, as it always did when something agitated him. She watched a little guiltily as he turned away silently and sat poking at his salad as aggressively as she had been punishing her own food earlier. 

There was no disputing that her husband was among the bravest of men. There was also no disputing that he sometimes behaved as if he were still a sullen and frightened little boy, resentful of her attentions to others and fearful of losing the love she usually lavished almost exclusively on him, except for Sully. Welkin loved both aspects of him equally, but it sometimes made for a very perplexing emotional balancing act for her. 

_Oh, fuck! Damn Minerva and her witch’s lib attitude about everything. Why did I let her push my buttons like that? Now I’ll have to try to make it up to Severus later, if he'll even let me,_ Welkin thought. 

She really didn't disagree with what Severus had said in principle. She agreed they should each look out for the other's best interests and cater to each other. He just hadn't stated it properly, and it made her sound too much like his personal servant the way he voiced it. She had half a mind to put the damned dreaded olives back in his salad for that, but that would just make things worse. As much as she loved him, she was only blind to his flaws because she chose to be, and he could be such a drama queen about things like that sometimes.

Welkin turned back to her conversation with Minerva to give Severus an opportunity to get the sulking out of his system. 

“Speaking of two-year-olds, you never told me how Christmas dinner with Albus and Aberforth went,” Welkin said.

“I suppose it went better than I had expected, but not as well as I had hoped. At least no punches were thrown and no noses were broken between the presentation of the appetizers and the desserts,” Minerva told her dryly.

“Well... that’s great then, isn’t it? They probably had a lot to catch up on,” Welkin said, encouraging further disclosure about the momentous reconciliation.

"If by 'catching up' you mean subtly insulting each other for an hour after dinner, drinking brandy and firewhisky until they were both in their cups and then calling each other names and engaging in childish magical competitions for the next hour while nearly setting the staff room on fire, I suppose they did," Minerva said primly. 

"You had Christmas dinner in the staff room?" Welkin grimaced. That place was not only decidedly drab, it was positively grim except for the fireplace, which was the only cozy touch in the mismatched and spartanly institutional decor.

To recapture her strayed attention, Snape began to fake a quiet little rasping cough, as if he were choking on his salad. Welkin turned his way briefly to pound him sharply on the back a few times until he stopped and then turned her attention back to Minerva.

“It was tastefully redecorated in the Gryffindor colors, of course. Pomona was kind enough to provide some lovely seasonal plants from the greenhouses, and we used the holiday linens my mother left me,” Minerva said. “Considering their past history, Albus thought it seemed a wise precaution to stage an attempted reconciliation with Aberforth away from public scrutiny.”

"You said the meal went okay, at least."

"It was relatively pleasant," Minerva agreed, brightening a little. 

“Why are men so childish?” Welkin asked, glancing at Severus, who was now scraping his fork noisily against his plate to ‘unobtrusively’ attract her attention back to himself again. “No matter how old they get... or how wonderful they are otherwise,” she added, smiling at him fondly when he stole a look at her to see if his new ruse was working.

“If you discover the answer to that ageless riddle, my dear, you will surpass the ancient Sphinx herself in wisdom," Minerva advised.

* * *

"You said we would talk later," Snape reminded her, grasping her by the wrist eagerly and tugging her with him behind the hanging tapestry into the alcove where she had once hid from him.

_“Muffliato,”_ he pronounced to cloak the sound of them from unwanted intruders who might wander down the corridor. Welkin wasn't surprised that he'd said it so quickly, since he'd had plenty of practice hiding their semi-public love maneuvers from others over the past two years. He was getting quite expert at it. _The spying has probably helped him get so good at it. He really has it down to a wizarding science now,_ Welkin thought with admiration. _It's like another episode of Science with Mr. Wizard... except it's Secret Sex with Mr. Wizard._ She grinned about that to herself. _Here comes another entry for my journal. He'd have a fit if he knew I wrote about this stuff. It'd be detention for sure!_

He backed her against the wall and pressed himself against her so that the cold stones chilled her through the back of her clothing. 

"So I did say that we could talk later," she said agreeably. "But tell me... what will get me forgiven quicker... an apology or an explanation?" Welkin asked him. “And aren’t you supposed to be teaching a class this afternoon?” 

Snape let his nose joust with hers, enjoying the sweet scent of her in his nostrils. The sharp tongue she had used to censure him at luncheon was forgotten, except in eager anticipation of the delights it could impart to him in silence.

“Not for another hour. If I am detained, the little simpletons can wait for me. It is not as if losing a few minutes of instruction is going to make any difference in their ability to concentrate on or comprehend the lesson. Most of them have the attention span of a Puffskein.” 

Welkin giggled at the comparison. The first time she’d seen a Puffskein she had thought that it resembled an overgrown tribble, like the ones from the old television show she used to watch as a child. She had thought that she might want one for Sully as a pet, until she realized how lethargic and impossible to train they were. Sully needed something more lively and intelligent than that to keep up with him.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper and was impatient with you at lunch," she told him, her hand straying down his back to cup one of his buttocks possessively, “but you were acting like a grumpy little boy instead of a grown wizard.”

“It is of no great... consequence,” he assured her with a catch in his voice on the last word as she gave his flesh a firm squeeze and flicked her tongue down the side of his throat to the sensitive spot at the base. She nipped him there lightly with her teeth, and he bucked his hips sharply against her. 

“You’re already getting hard... like the dirty boy you are... I can feel it poking against my belly,” she accused. “Mama’s dirty little boy wants her to touch him, doesn’t he?” She slid her other hand around to his front and captured and pinched one of his nipples through his tunic. 

He rubbed against her intimately as she teased him. “Not... not there... lower,” he insisted. 

“Here?” she teased. Pretending not to understand what he wanted, she released his nipple and let the palm of her hand slid down his torso to rest just above where his belly button should be under his clothing. She stroked him there in a light circular motion. 

“No... here!” He grabbed her casually stroking hand and lowered it abruptly to his cock, pressing himself against her again. Simultaneously he placed his other hand on the back of her neck and kissed her with such bruising intensity that she nearly forgot that her game was to try to prolong the pleasure as long as possible before penetration.

Snape obviously had forgotten that already. He was now working with both hands to bunch the floor length skirt she was wearing up around her waist. With her pristine white panties exposed, he hooked a finger through them and tightened the crotch until it parted her moistened labia. He tightened and relaxed rhythmically to excite her, rubbing the fabric against her clit while he watched the pupils of her eyes dilate in response to the pleasurable feeling. When he had accomplished his objective, he pulled the fabric aside, turned his hand and sank his finger inside her wetness, wiggling it around in exploration before he began to stroke slowly and steadily in and out. 

“Do you like that?” he purred. He rubbed his rigid cock against her thigh as he worked his finger inside. “Let me give you something bigger to fill you,” he suggested.

“Give me one good reason why I should, Severus? You’ve been a bad boy... you didn’t eat your nice... plump... juicy... olives.” 

Welkin tried to remain in control of the situation, but he was working her clit too expertly and the squishy sounds coming from her pussy as he inserted a second finger with the first and increased the tempo were working her into a lather in more ways than one. It felt too good to try to ignore much longer.

"I have something much nicer than black olives for you to sample with your dirty, delicious little mouth, my saucy witch... if you will only let me... come inside to play with you." Snape smirked at her confidently, his eyes glittering with anticipation of the contest.

“Wizards like you, who won't eat everything on their plates, don’t get to play in Welkin’s candy shop for dessert,” she insisted.

“You are stubborn, indeed, I grant you that... but you are also quite confused. It is precisely naughty little witches like you who must learn to share their candy only with those who deserve it... now spread your legs wide for me like a good girl,” Snape instructed.

“In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't been a girl for years, and... I won’t... spread... anything... for you,” she said stubbornly. Nevertheless, she squirmed delightfully against him as he unzipped himself, released the straining beast and pressed the tip of his hardness against her stomach like a wet kiss. He pushed it down between her bare thighs, leaving a moist trail of pre-cum in its wake, exciting her even more, although she tried hard not to show it.

Snape grinned at her futile efforts to resist his seduction, enjoying the satisfying process of mastering her until she surrendered to him. He inserted the glistening mushroom shaped head of his cock inside her tight velvet tunnel, and he held it there for long moments, teasing her with just the tip sheathed inside her. When she at last betrayed her passionate arousal and need for him with her first impatient moan, he finally leaned in to kiss her lips in an unhurried way. He tugged her blouse open, bent over her and feathered kisses across the tops of her ample breasts as her deep sighs of pleasure made the pale mounds of flesh quiver enticingly for his enjoyment. He trailed his soft kisses up her throat to her chin, his lips finally reaching and nibbling at her ripe, full-lipped plum of a mouth again.

Welkin shivered, and she trembled all over with pleasure. He knew her body too well. _Maybe prolonging things isn't all it's cracked up to be,_ she thought, hastily revising her game plan in the face of the studied onslaught of sensual stimulation he was bombarding her with.

Welkin steadied herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, kicked off her slippers, gave a little hop and raised her legs off the floor to wrap them around him. "Don't you dare smirk at me," she warned as he sank deeper into her in the process. "Just because I changed my mind, it doesn't mean you won."

"I would not dream of it, Wells. We are both the victor, my love, each time that we join in such sweet congress," Snape said. There was no smirk on his face, but amusement at her was definitely in his voice. 

“Damn you and your unexpected poetic pronouncements! It’s not fair! You know it turns me into a quivering mass of romantic jelly when you talk pretty like that, you asshole!” Welkin cursed him. She tried to maintain a frown but couldn’t manage it. Her laughter rang out merrily, tolling her complete surrender like a bell. “Talk pretty to me some more, Sevvy,” she requested with a grin.

“Can it not wait, my sweet? I am not certain how much longer I can support us both in this position,” he begged her indulgence.

"Switch places with me then. I can't move around enough with my back against the wall," she said. As he complied, she slid her legs from his waist to his buttocks, and he leaned against the wall so that only his back made contact with it, leaving her free to thrust, which she began to do quite vigorously, pumping and humping and riding his cock with abandon while emitting little sounds of pleasure in his ear. The heels of her feet squeezed and massaged his buttocks with each new thrust as she locked her hands more firmly behind his neck. She leaned back with her hair streaming behind her, and she rode him harder for several minutes until he felt her wetness trickle down from inside her to further lubricate his shaft as she impaled herself, dampening the front of his trousers and making him slick with her slippery love offering.

Snape's eyes were riveted on her undulating body as she worked to bring them both to the brink of completion. 

He loved their quieter moments of pleasuring too, but he especially loved it when Welkin was like this—wild and fierce in her need of him. No kittenish nymph, seductive siren of a witch, or vain vixen of a Veela maiden could ever compete with his Welkin for either his body or his heart. Nothing made him feel more truly alive—more truly like the man he knew that he was—than her love and this passion they shared.

Welkin's breasts began to flush pink, which signaled to him that she was close to achieving her release.

"Come for me, my love," he urged and began to thrust in tempo with her as he felt his balls tighten and lift inside his dampened trousers. Her fluids had soaked through the coarser fabric to make it cling to the sensitive skin and rub over it each time she thrust to make him sink into her as deeply as possible. The cloth caressed his swollen balls with a slightly rough but pleasurable touch, like the tongue of a cat would feel on the back of his hand. "Come for me, Welkin... come with me... let me fill you... until you can hold... no more," he urged. 

"Inside... Inside me... I want everything... inside me," she panted, and he knew she meant the joining of their minds as well as their bodies.

There was no longer a need to say the words. Achieving the connection was second nature by now—wordless and effortless and so very right. 

When they both came, screaming and groaning, clawing at and bathing each other with fluids in the primal act of creation, they were truly together as one, and they knew each other at the core and were not ashamed for the knowing.

Welkin whimpered a little as she came down from her high.

"Holy fuck! That was intense!" she exclaimed appreciatively. 

Welkin slowly unwrapped her legs from around him and let herself slid down the length of him so that her feet once again touched the floor. She leaned against him as he sagged against the wall, and they propped each other up on shaky, sex-spent legs. 

Her often tested and proven resilience in the aftermath of such an epic pussy pounding was now a well-established fact to Severus, and as he anticipated, she recovered first. 

“Okay... now you can talk pretty to me some more,” she grinned up at him expectantly.

Severus laughed weakly at her. “You are exceedingly demanding of me, Wells. I have barely regained my breath or my equilibrium, yet so quickly you demand more tribute!” 

“I can’t help it, Sevvy. You know how much I like the way you talk,” she told him.

“I should by now... you tell me often enough,” he agreed, sounding pleased with himself. Even if it was for something as routine and unremarkable to him as his accent was, Welkin found it pleasant and exotic, and that was enough reason to be proud of it. 

“Very well, my greedy goddess... my only love... let me think a moment...” 

He cast about in his mind for an appropriate verse from one of the Muggle books in his collection at Spinner’s End. A selection from English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge came to mind as he gazed down at her fondly, and he began to recite _The Presence of Love_ to her from memory:

And in Life's noisiest hour,  
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,  
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy. 

You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within ;  
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart  
Thro' all my Being, thro' my pulses beat ;  
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,  
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve  
On rippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.  
And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,  
How oft ! I bless the Lot, that made me love you. 

"Oh, Sevvy, that was beautiful," Welkin sighed when he had finished. Her voice became dreamy and soft, yet a little sad, and her eyes grew misty and filled with emotion. " I love you so much... I need you so much... Whatever would I do without you? How could I possibly stand to go on without your love?"

She lay her head against his chest, enfolded in his arms, and listened to his heart beating steadily. His closeness and warmth gave her comfort at the thought of what awful things might be on the horizon for them.

Severus kissed the top of her head tenderly and spoke to her soothingly in a whisper. "If luck is on our side and love really is the most powerful magic, as Albus says, then we have no need to worry, Wells."

* * *


	65. Make a Wish, Severus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welkin seriously considers Severus's wish to have another child. Hermione broods over her split from Julien. Voldemort plans ahead for a Druid fertility ceremony concerning Welkin. Severus receives unexpected birthday gifts from Aberforth and Albus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also includes my original characters of Mathias Burke and Violet Murdoch.

* * *

Welkin intently studied the aggressive angles of Severus's face as flickering light from the fireplace dimly illuminated him. His pale skin was stretched taut over the outlines of his prominent cheekbones—smooth skin that glowed bright in high contrast set against the deep midnight hue of the long hair which framed his face in glorious disarray. His hawkish nose helped make his expression in sleep, as it often was in consciousness, appear dark and brooding. The total effect was mesmerizing. 

_He really is exquisite,_ she established to her satisfaction. _It isn't just my imagination or because I love him._

It was so difficult not to reach out to touch him to stir him awake so that she could sink into the deep underground mine of those coal black eyes again. She wanted to watch his icy expression turn warm as he recognized that it was her lying there beside him. It was always there—that same look of wonder and gratitude at still having her—no matter what acerbic comment might issue from between his lips to greet her. That look made everything perfect and worthwhile. It meant she was loved and needed by him. It made her ecstatically happy, no matter what smartass comment she greeted him with in return. They both knew better.

"Severus?" she whispered softly. His long dark eyelashes flickered a little at the sound. She could see his eyes move back and forth beneath his closed eyelids as if he were studying one of his treasured ancient magical texts. His lips moved soundlessly as he dreamed. _What is he dreaming of? Is it me? Is it Voldemort? Albus, and the dilemma he still faced regarding him?_ Whatever it was, she would be there to chase the shadows away when he woke.

* * *

Hermione stood at the window down the hallway outside the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. She pulled the shawl she had wrapped around the shoulders of her dressing gown tighter against the chill. Outside, a new fall of snow had deposited nearly another half foot, topping it off at nearly a foot. It was still almost two hours before dawn, but the light from the moon reflected off of the snow, brightening the landscape so that she could see the tracks left by various animals as they had emerged the forest to forage and circled back again.

She thought of returning to bed, but she wasn't exhausted enough to sleep yet, and lying in her bed staring up at the draperies of her canopy bed would only cause her to think of Julien with more focus than having something else to look at would. That, and a recent addiction to the drama of her heartache, was why she was out here staring out the window when most of the castle was sleeping, peacefully wrapped in dreams.

She'd been over it and over it in her mind. It should have been an easy puzzle to solve, the riddle of figuring out why Julien had lied to her. She'd heard it said that she was the brightest witch of her age. Some said it seriously, and some with a jealous, bitter edge that disturbed her. But if she was, why did the answer still elude her? And the library hadn't helped this time. This time the answers weren't found in any of the thousands of books housed there. 

The door to the common room opened, but she didn't turn to see who it was breaking the rules along with her. It was probably the same one who always found a reason to roam the castle at night when he wanted to.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

_At least my instincts are still accurate about some things,_ she comforted herself.

Harry walked over to her and stood by her side. 

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked her finally, when the silence made him uncomfortable. "Do you want to talk about it?" He sounded as if he wasn't certain that he wanted to hear it if she did. But it didn't matter, because she couldn't talk about it to him—her secret love she couldn't name, who had apparently never really been hers to claim. 

_What's wrong with me? Why doesn't anybody want me?_ she thought. The self-pity was oddly comforting and bolstered her. _Snape... Julien... Ron... I'll show them all. I don't need any of them._

"No... go back to bed... nothing's wrong, Harry," she lied. The break in her voice proved to her how awful she was at lying.

"We're worried about you, Hermione... Ron and I," Harry told her. "You haven't been coming to meals, and you've missed some classes. Ron's really worried," he added.

"I can see exactly how worried about me that he is... still snoring in his bed, isn't he?" Hermione said bitterly. 

"Well... er... uh... you know Ron," Harry finished weakly.

"Yes... I know Ron... too well," Hermione sighed. "I'm going back to bed... I have Arithmancy homework to catch up on tomorrow, but I'll see you at breakfast," she said, sounding more like the logical and efficient Hermione he knew. 

She turned and stalked back to the portrait of the disgruntled Fat Lady to give the password to her, and Harry watched her disappear through the portal.

* * *

"Severus?" Welkin tested again, when she thought he was no longer deep inside his dream. 

He stirred a little and tightened his grip on her. 

"Happy birthday... to... you... Happy birthday... to... you," she sang softly. She'd sung nearly the whole of it when he finally spoke.

"Welkin... when I open my eyes, I am not going to see another life-sized goat cake, am I?" he queried.

"No, silly. That would be boring to do the same thing twice. I've got more imagination than that," she assured him.

He opened one eye suspiciously and then, when he saw that the immediate vicinity of their bed was clear of any such embarrassments, opened the other and sat up yawning. 

"No attempts at organizing a party this year, I hope?" he double-checked.

"No, Severus... they don't deserve it after last year. It's their loss. I made a cake, but it's just for us. You can have whatever you want for your birthday this year. What do you want?" 

He looked at her incredulously for asking such a ridiculous question.

"Besides that, I mean. You get sex all the time. What else do you want for your birthday? I want to give you something special."

"I do not think that you really want to know," Snape told her. 

"Of course, I do," Welkin insisted. "What is it that you want?"

Severus slowly unclasped his hands from behind her and brought one around to rest lightly on her stomach as those dark eyes watched her face for a sign that she understood him.

Welkin blushed under his scrutiny. "That takes longer than a day, you know," she said, trying to buy time to let him down easy. He was asking her for the one thing she didn't think it would be wise to grant at this time with so much uncertainty about Voldemort and the fate of the Wizarding world.

"I would be willing to wait the requisite number of months to view my birthday gift," he assured her. "A gift so precious would be well worth waiting for. Lie with me and at least discuss it." He pulled her down again against the pillows.

"Why are you so adamant about this? Don't you see what a mistake it could be right now?" she asked.

He stroked her hair as she looked up at him, a conflicted expression on her lovely face. He knew that she wanted to give him this, but she was afraid of the circumstance they found themselves in.

"I have made many mistakes, my love, and have managed to survive them all to date. Do you not see how right this might be—for us and for Sullivan?"

"Sully would probably like a little brother," Welkin admitted. "But that doesn't—"

"A witch," Snape insisted, just as he did each time he continually broached the subject. "It shall be a witch, and I shall name her."

"Yeah... so you keep telling me." She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. "What would you name her? I mean... if we did have a witch someday?" she asked with curiosity.

"I shall name her Samantha... Samantha Morgana," Severus said with a determined look, as if daring her to object.

"Samantha," Welkin repeated, testing the way that it sounded to her. It was a nice, traditional name, unlike her own, and she liked that about it. He had even thought about following her family tradition with the middle name of Morgana for the firstborn female. She snuggled against Severus as the thoughts whirled through her head. "I suppose that we could... call her Mandy, for short," she said, unaware that Severus was smiling at her, thinking of the seed he had planted, in her head at least, for the time being.

* * *

"Are you certain about these calculations?" Voldemort pressed.

"Well, I... yes, milord," the old wizard told him nervously, fearful that it was not the answer that the Dark Lord wanted to hear.

It was not, but Voldemort needed his counsel and his expertise with the ritual, and he could not afford to dispose of him in a fit of pique until he had served his purpose. 

"The ancient ceremony must be undertaken at midnight on the day of the alignment to ensure that the seed is planted and yields the proper harvest. Conception would be possible at other times, of course, but the Druid texts are quite specific for the sort of child you wish to accomplish. It must be at the alignment of the proper planets and in the full of the moon. Otherwise, I cannot assure you that a male child of sufficient strength and power will result."

Voldemort slammed the book that he was reading shut, causing his unwilling house guest to jerk and involuntarily shrink away from him. 

"Jumpy, Mathias? You have no need to be... as long as you serve me well and tell no one of what we have discussed. Do you understand?" 

Voldemort had been careful not to reveal exactly why he was asking about ancient Druid fertility rites. Even if the old man was enough of a fool that he sought to reveal their conversation to someone else, they would have no way of knowing exactly what he had planned, or who he had planned it for. The hex he would place on him to silence him would see to that. 

"Yes, milord... I understand. No one but yourself will be privy to this knowledge," he assured him, shrinking into himself to make his body a smaller and hopefully less appealing target.

"Good... then you will accept my hospitality at Malfoy Manor until the proper time, of course," Voldemort said.

"But... but, milord... such an alignment will not happen until next year!" Mathias Burke protested, nervously fingering the medallion around his neck. “How is my absence to be explained? To my family... to my colleagues?”

Voldemort glared at him with angry red eyes until he dropped his head in reluctant obeisance.

“Let me attend to those details, Mathias. I want you at hand and well-prepared to lead the ceremony when the time arrives. Your further study of and future preparations to perform that duty when the proper candidate is chosen will consume your time until then.”

* * *

"It is Thursday, Wells. I cannot ignore the classes which I am obligated to teach for the next two days just because it is my birthday," Severus argued.

"Yes, you can. I cleared it with Albus last week," Welkin grinned. "He thinks you could do with a few days off, lounging on a nice, warm island. It's his birthday gift to you. We can't disappoint him by turning it down," she conveniently reasoned. 

She struggled with Sully to get his arms into his fur-lined parka. "Come on, Sully... be a good boy and put on your nice warm coat so we can go to Auntie Vi's house... I told her we'd drop you off this morning so she wouldn't have to get out in the cold."

"Auntie Vi?" Snape grimaced. "Do you really think that it is advisable or appropriate for Sullivan to address his nanny in such an overly familiar fashion?"

"Yes, and I also think it's advisable that you not waste time arguing about it with me. If you want to take anything else with us, just put it in the suitcase and then close and fasten it for me, please." 

Snape rooted through her packing job and noted a couple of omissions. "You have failed to include the bathing garment I purchased for you," he reported.

"Won't need it," she replied, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at him. "It's a very small, very private Muggle-free and totally unplottable island that Albus recommended. He said it's located south of the Canary Islands. It's warm, and we can run around completely naked if we want to."

"Naaa... ked," Sully echoed. "Sully naked," he announced, plucking at the front of the offending coat in an attempt to remove it. 

"Sully better not be naked... not unless you want to freeze your little wizard wee-wee off out there in that bad old snowstorm... Brrrrr! Jack Frost gonna get you!" Welkin grabbed him and pretended to attack his stomach in imitation of the fictitious Jack as Sully giggled wildly and struggled with her under her onslaught. 

"You can take off your coat when we get to Auntie Vi's," she promised as she suspended the attack. She put on his stocking cap and pulled it down over his ears, securing it with a minor Sticking Charm as an afterthought. Sure, the parka had a hood, but he'd probably find a way to pull that down. Better safe than sorry.

She rose to put on her own traveling cloak and fastened it securely at the neck. "I guess we're ready. Get your cloak and grab the bag, Severus. I'll take Sully."

She gathered Sully into her arms. "Snake... Snake... Snake, Daddy!" he motioned frantically to Snape. 

Snape retrieved Snake, the battered stuffed toy, from the bed and gave him to Sully, who clutched him in his arms tightly. "Snake naked, Daddy," he informed him.

"I believe that Sullivan has acquired a new favorite word, Welkin," Severus said urbanely.

* * *

"It will be no trouble at all to keep him until you return," Violet said. "He'll be great company. He's a little rascal, but he's a good boy. Aren't you, Sully?"

Sully nodded gravely. "Sully good," he affirmed as he looked around the room for anything new that he had not yet gotten his curious little hands on. "Cake," he said, spotting the birthday cake on the side table. 

Severus walked over to the table and studied the chocolate iced confection and its profusion of candles with a critic's eye. Crooked red roses and one single silver snake slithering among them decorated the top, along with shaky lettering wishing him a happy natal day. He smiled to himself at the crude, but obviously loving, effort she had made by her own hand instead of using magic. 

"I'm not so hot on decorating, but it'll taste good," Welkin promised, following him to wrap an arm around his waist. "I wanted to at least have a cake for you before we left on our trip, so I made it yesterday in the kitchen at Hogwarts, and Violet brought it back with her when she dropped off Sully. Let me light the candles." She waved a hand over the top, and each candle lit in perfect sequence. 

"Make a wish, Severus," she invited, smiling at him. He was struck with the sudden odd feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking, even though she was not inside his mind. 

"Wells," he said hesitantly, "I noticed that there was one other thing which you forgot to pack. I thought that I should make you aware of that fact before I perform this ridiculous superstitious ritual, as I should not like to assume too much on a simple mistaken omission on your part and waste my... wish." 

"It wasn't a mistake." Welkin shrugged. "I ran out of contraceptive potion yesterday, and I just decided that I didn't have time to make more with all the birthday plans and everything, and it's not really that important, I guess." She shrugged again. "What will be... will be... don't you think?"

"What I think is that perhaps this is not such a ridiculous tradition after all," Snape said. He arched an eyebrow, stared at her meaningfully for a moment, bent and blew out all the candles in one breath.

"Don't you two worry. It'll be no more trouble to look after two little ones," Violet said helpfully. "But I don't know about that goat. I don't mind keeping her at all, but I'll have to charge you extra to board her."

"Goat? What goat?" Snape asked warily.

Violet drew her wand and made a circular motion with it in the direction of the guest room. A moment later there was the clatter of hooves and a sleek black goat galloped into the room and made her usual beeline for Severus.

"Aberforth Dumbledore delivered the bonny little thing this morning, along with her feed. He said she might as well be yours since she was so attached to you," Violet said.

"I have no intention of adopting this stubborn, obnoxious creature," Snape said, as it rubbed against him affectionately. "It must be returned to the _Hog's Head_ immediately."

"But, Severus, it's a gift. You can't return it. You'll hurt Aberforth's feelings," Welkin protested. "And Persephone will be heartbroken if you reject her like that."

"I will not be held responsible for the emotional well-being of a goat," Snape insisted as he watched Sully toddle over to Persephone in obvious fascination. 

"Seffie!" he shouted, pointing at her, and he turned his head to look at Welkin for confirmation.

"Yes, that's right, Sully... like your birthday cake. This is the real Persephone. Be careful though... she might bite," Welkin warned, kneeling to hold him back. 

She needn't have worried. Persephone approached Sully's outstretched hand gingerly, sniffing his scent. It was the same scent as his father's, and she recognized the small one as his. She nuzzled the baby playfully with her head and stood docilely as Welkin let Sully pet her with gentle pats on her back. 

"Severus, please... Sully loves Persephone... and you did say that you couldn't think of any reason why he couldn't have a suitable pet when I asked you about it," Welkin begged. "And Violet did say she can board her here for us. Sully could play with her almost every day."

"I do not think that a goat is an appropriate companion for Sullivan," Snape said. "I would prefer that he have something more traditional and dignified... more befitting his future stature in the Wizarding community."

"A pet is not supposed to be a status symbol, Severus. It's supposed to be for love and to teach him responsibility and caring for something," Welkin instructed.

Severus was about to try to counter that sentimental argument when Sully suddenly let his grasp on Snake loosen in favor of throwing his arms around the goat's neck. He lay his head against her back lovingly.

"Argue with that, why don't you?" Welkin said smugly.

"The wee one does seem to have taken a shine to the animal, Professor Snape," Violet chimed in.

"Oh, very well! I shall adopt the damned goat! I see that I am in the minority in having the common sense to see the flaws in this arrangement," Snape groused. 

Welkin leapt up to hug and kiss him. "Sometimes you just have to go with your gut and take a leap of faith that everything will turn out the way it should," she told him. "She won't be any trouble for you, I promise."

"We have both taken a leap of faith in the future today, I suppose," Snape considered, thinking of her abandoning her contraception. "Yours will require a bigger commitment in the long term. I will take that into account and make this lesser adjustment."

"Thank you, Severus... Happy birthday, sweetie," Welkin grinned.

"Seffie naked," Sully concluded to Violet, making her laugh.

"Happy birthday, indeed, Professor. Shall I serve the cake?" Mrs. Murdoch asked. "I have a wee bit of elderberry elf wine to go with it. I think we all might like a drop."

* * *


	66. Snape's Island Idyll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin frolic in a romantic island paradise, courtesy of Albus Dumbledore. Snape shares one of Welkin’s disturbing dreams about his future.

* * *

Snape and Welkin Apparated onto the sand, and a few startled, reddish colored crabs reluctantly scuttled away sideways to make room for them on their captured spot of beachhead. The warmth of the sun kissed the pale faces of the intruders, and a gentle sea breeze ruffled their hair fondly, greeting their unorthodox arrival in the private island paradise.

"First order of business," Welkin announced, impulsively dropping her ornately embroidered carpetbag in the sand, "is that we're going native!" Wasting no time, she whipped out her wand and flourished it at herself and Severus in turn. 

Snape, looking as startled as one of the crabs that were keeping a stalk-eyed, cautious and suspicious watch on the interlopers, dropped the larger bag he was carrying as his dark clothing transformed into something much too brief and revealing to suit him. 

Welkin gave a loud, appreciative wolf whistle. "You look great in a loincloth, Sevvy! Turn around and let me see your butt."

"You should have asked me about this, Welkin!" he berated her, feeling much too exposed and vulnerable in the new attire, regardless of what she thought about it. 

As usual, she was exaggerating the dubious appeal of his thin, somewhat awkwardly constructed physical attributes. _Bless her for that particular propensity for selective blindness where I am concerned, and thank Merlin that we are the only two humans on the island,_ he told himself. 

Struggling with the dilemma of what to do with his hands, since there was now no place to put them, his eyes involuntarily strayed below Welkin's neckline to her bare breasts. He had to admit that it was an immediately arresting view. Welkin was similarly clad as he was—in nothing but a brown leather loincloth. She twirled for him cheekily with a grin on her face, and he saw that the back of her brief outfit was much briefer than the front—only a leather strap bisected her perky round arse cheeks. So... that was what was lodged uncomfortably between his own buttocks, he realized. He blushed at the thought, and his sallow complexion turned slightly pink as he frowned at her.

"Don't be shy just because we're out in the open, Severus. It's not like I haven't seen, as well as felt, every delicious inch of you before. Albus wanted us to relax and have fun, and it's warm and private enough that we don't need to wear all those bulky, confining clothes. I think our matching outfits are cute, don't you? You look just like Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle... and I'm your devoted Jane. There's no one else on this island except us," she reminded him.

"This strap between my buttocks is quite annoying," Snape noted grumpily, shifting uncomfortably in the sand in a fruitless attempt to dislodge the irritant that was digging into him.

"We can go naked, if you don't get used to wearing the thong," Welkin offered. "It can be a little bit irritating rubbing back and forth in your crack," she admitted, reaching around to adjust and tug hers out a bit. "Other than that, I was hoping you'd like the idea of these outfits. I think they're really sexy," she cajoled. 

_She thinks it is sexy,_ Snape argued to himself to keep from saying or doing something that might prevent him from reaping the benefits of that attitude. 

"I suppose... if there is no one else around... it might be acceptable to costume in this fashion for a time. I can endure the discomfort," he agreed.

"I should hope so... you big, bad Death Eater, you," she teased.

"You are more trying than Voldemort at times, Wells, and just as stubborn in pursuit of your goals," Snape charged. 

"Don't knock it. You never know when my stubborn attitude might come in handy for you. Now, grab our bag and follow me, Tarzan... I think our quarters are supposed to be in that direction, according to Albus. Let's go get settled in," she suggested, pointing across the beach in the direction of a heavily forested area. 

Snape retrieved the larger bag, but he ignored her instructions to follow. He rebelliously took the lead instead and struggled through the warm, shifting sand with Welkin taking up the rear on their march. 

_And what a rear it is,_ she thought admiringly. 

"Must be jelly, 'cause jam don't shake like that," she quoted a song lyric aloud.

"What did you say?" Snape asked with clueless innocence. 

"Nothing at all, sweetie. Just another of my obscure Muggle cultural references. I'll explain later," she promised.

As they got closer, Snape easily spotted the small round thatch-roofed hut nestled among the trees and located about 100 yards into the forest. He marched them up to it and dropped the bag he was carrying at the base of the structure. 

The hut was primarily constructed of closely roped together cane. The thickly thatched roof was cone-shaped and rose to a point like a witch's hat. Green and colorfully flowering foliage dotted the top of it here and there, so that it resembled a large living organism.

Welkin stopped beside him and stood quietly looking up at the hut, which was elevated off the ground on stilts.

Severus watched her face as a little of the color drained out of it and her body tensed. "How are we supposed to get up there?" she asked him anxiously.

"There is a rope ladder to climb... or we can levitate," Snape replied nonchalantly. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he pronounced, and their bags rose into the air and ascended until they had deposited themselves neatly on the circular deck surrounding the hut. "Would you like for me to levitate you or would you care to try it yourself?" he asked with deceptive politeness. 

"I'll climb the rope ladder. It's better exercise," Welkin decided quickly. She felt safer having something to cling to just in case. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Albus planned this on purpose," she accused. "Stay behind me just in case I fall." She climbed several steps up on the rough rope rungs and paused to allow him to follow. 

Sighing heavily, Snape followed her. "Albus is as disturbed as I am that you have made no progress with flight and precious little with personal levitation. Levitating merely a few feet off the floor will not be sufficient for your examinations, Wells. I agree with your conjecture about Albus. I would not put it past him to have designed this abode with that in mind to force you to test yourself."

"Don't talk to me while I'm climbing... it makes me nervous," she said. It was only 15 feet, but it took much longer than it should have to climb to the top because of the overcautious way she proceeded. 

"No sweat," she lied as she finally grasped the top railing and pulled herself onto the deck. 

"If it was so easy for you, why are you so pale and tense in appearance?" he asked astutely. 

Welkin frowned at him for pointing it out and turned towards the open doorway of the hut without response. 

"One moment," he said as he pulled her to the side. He levitated their bags inside neatly, then scooped her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold. "It is tradition, I believe," he said as he set her down again.

_It really is hard to stay mad at him when he does unexpected things like that,_ Welkin conceded. 

"That's only a tradition when you're first married, but I appreciate the romantic gesture," she told him. "I guess this shows that you're not completely disappointed with me and my awful lack of magical progress."

"You have your compensating qualities. Your expertise at oral stimulation particularly springs to mind. It is quite... magical," he noted with a smirk.

"One of these days I'm going to figure out how to swallow the whole damn thing, and you'll be my slave," she promised.

"One of these days I am going to insist that you do, and after my enormous cock has choked you into unconsciousness you will no longer be so cheeky to me," he promised.

"You're an evil asshole. It's lucky for you that that is the type I'm attracted to, you cheeky devil. But if you’ve got to ride my ass, at least ride me to death like your bitch instead of bitching me to death with bad critiques of my magical deficiencies,” she retorted. 

"Your difficulty with flight is practically your only area of weakness, my pet. However, I shall not mention it again for the duration of our stay here. I shall leave it up to you whether you wish to test yourself and I shall not force the issue. We are here to enjoy ourselves, are we not?" Snape concluded their verbal jousting on an upbeat note.

"Exactly... and just look at this fabulous view!" Welkin grasped him by the hand and tugged him over to one of the windows, which faced the beach and the ocean. “We’re so close to the water that we’ll be able to hear the waves at night when we're in bed.”

"It will be most pleasant," he agreed with uncharacteristic congeniality. "I am also quite relieved to see that we have what appears to be a comfortable and hopefully sturdily constructed bed, as I intend to be quite aggressive with you."

A cane frame bed, covered in pristine white linens, a sage green coverlet folded at the foot, and white and sage green pillows, was in the center of the single large circular room. Some geometric patterned woven mats covered the rough wooden flooring surrounding the bed. There were a couple of rattan chairs and matching table near one of the open windows. The table was partially covered by a rough grey burlap looking tablecloth, and a tall greenish grey stone vase in the center of the table held some sprigs of bright pink hibiscus flowers. There was a pottery bowl holding a variety of colored fruits. 

Some of the same rough material that covered the table was secured on pegs above each open window and could be lowered to shut out intruding insects if needed. Open woven baskets of various shapes and sizes hung randomly as the only wall decoration. One shallow one contained several crockery bowls and a modest number of wooden handled eating utensils. 

A couple of darker, tall covered baskets stood on either side of the bed, serving as end tables. The most interesting and distinctively stimulating feature of the room to Welkin’s wandering eye were the large erotic figurines of couples engaged in sinewy sexual congress that adorned the top of each basket like fertility totems and looked to be carved of dark ebony wood. 

“Wait a minute... where’s the bathroom?” Welkin asked. 

Snape crossed to another rough length of material, which was hanging on a semi-circular rod from ceiling to floor behind the bed. He pulled it aside to reveal a rustic looking copper tub that might be big enough for two if the two were acrobatic enough. 

“Apparently, we shall we obliged to use spells to provide our own water and heat source,” he observed. “As there is no plumbing, there is either an outdoors facility for bodily eliminations, or the outdoors is the facility.” 

"So much for paradise," Welkin said sarcastically. 

Snape smirked at her, and she quickly regained a little of her previous enthusiasm. 

"Strike that. Big deal that there's no bathroom... it's still gorgeous here! I guess having to take a shit or two in the woods is a small price to pay in exchange for four days alone with you in paradise," she said. 

"With my extensive knowledge of flora, you are fortunate that I am here to advise you which leaves are safe for you to wipe with, my love... and, of course, as befits the image of the model husband that I am to you, I shall do my utmost to protect you from anything which might be slithering through them." Snape could not help goading her a little about roughing it. 

"Asshole. I'm Slytherin too, you know—I'm no sissy girl. Whatever's slithering around out there better slither in the other direction if it interferes with me and mine. I'll hex the crap out of it." Welkin grinned at his prodding. "Let's go exploring a little, model husband. Maybe we'll find a magical outhouse close by."

* * *

Reclining on their bed with her head in Snape's lap, Welkin bit into another tasty fig and reached up to solicitously feed Severus the other half. 

They had not found a magical outhouse on their exploration, but they had discovered fig trees, date palms, plantains, mangos, copious other flora, reptiles, and many colorful birds, including an ibis that sauntered past them with regal disregard on stilt legs as they were kissing by the waterfall.

The small waterfall spilling over an outcropping of rock and the beautiful little clear pool of water that accompanied it were the most exciting finds of the day to Welkin. Severus responded to her obvious enthusiasm for the location by lying with her on the soft grass of the bank and making love to her. 

Afterwards, he had plucked a large white blossom from one of the nearby bushes and placed it in her hair, smiling to himself at the effect it created. Welkin fell into a drowsy nap with the sound of him murmuring in her ear. She was still wearing the flower he had adorned her with when they finally made their way back to the hut in late afternoon. 

"After Voldemort is defeated, we can relax like this more often," Welkin quoted a familiar hoped for reality to him.

Severus stroked the bangs away from her forehead before responding. "Wells... you are aware that scenario may not be possible for some time. And now, with Albus so ill and his time so near... perhaps it is time that we revisit your plan to keep Sullivan safe," he said soberly.

"He's really that sick?" Welkin asked, looking distressed. 

"His powers are fading," Snape said. "I notice it more because I am with him much more often than you." 

"I didn't know... I mean... I did know, but I just didn't want to think about it too much. It's too upsetting. I love that crazy old wizard. It's awful to think that he might not be around Hogwarts, especially when he's needed now more than ever."

"Draco is definitely up to something, but I cannot convince him to confide in me," Snape said with frustration in his voice. "I fear that it may not be long before he makes another attempt on Albus's life."

"Can Draco really do it, do you think?"

"He does not have the fortitude to accomplish it, despite what he thinks or boasts. It is not in him to kill. In that, he is quite unlike Lucius. Lucius could do it with no such qualms and still sit down to tea as if he had only squashed a somewhat worrisome insect."

"But... if Draco can't, then..." Welkin sat up and looked at him fearfully. 

"Then I must," Snape finished bitterly. "That is why you must be prepared to flee with Sullivan at any time if it becomes necessary."

"I'll flee with him... temporarily... until we can stash him away safely, but I'm not going anywhere without you," Welkin reiterated stubbornly, as she always did when Severus brought up the possibility that they might have to separate. 

Welkin suddenly rolled off the bed and padded over to the carpetbag she had brought with them, as if something he had said had prompted it. When she retrieved a large bottle and two glasses, Snape understood.

"You brought that with you?" 

"I can't believe I almost forgot about it. We haven't missed a dose of it since we first developed it, and it's important that we keep drinking it. I used a chilling charm on it. It doesn't taste as good at room temperature. It's sort of like Jager in that respect... the colder, the better."

She poured a small glass for each of them, put the stopper back in the bottle and returned it to the bag before walking over to hand him his glass.

He regarded it thoughtfully. "Why are you so determined that I continue drinking this, Welkin? Aside from your alleged 'clinical trial' period, I mean. We both know that it has been quite long enough to deduce that it does seem to have some beneficial effects in nearly all areas of health. However... some of the ingredients you insisted on including would lead me to believe that you have a particular emphasis in mind."

"What ingredients?" she asked disingenuously. 

"Mistletoe for the base... bezoar... essence of rue... powdered moonstone... all of those ingredients are used as antidotes for poisons," Snape pointed out. "I ask you again... why do you insist that I drink this?"

"To help you build up immunity, that's why!"

Snape frowned. "Because of your dreams? You have told me how indistinct and unclear that they have been. Is a vague feeling of dread really enough to warrant such extreme measures? I can carry a bezoar with me to protect myself from poisoning and accomplish the same purpose with much less inconvenience, can I not?" he asked.

"I want you to carry a bezoar... just don't stop drinking the VitaPresul tonic. What if you forget the bezoar one day... lose it... or have it taken from you... or you’re poisoned and you just don't have time to take it? You have to keep drinking the tonic, Severus! Please keep your promise to me that you will," she pleaded. 

Her happy mood had flip-flopped and she was suddenly on the verge of tears at the thought that he might abandon the nightly routine.

As delightful as her eruptions of passionate feeling could be at times, Welkin's explosive emotional reactions to things that happened in her dreams could be most disconcerting and inconvenient to Severus at other times. Like now, for instance, when his rational mind balked against accepting that skewed logic that the dreamers of such dreams believed in fervently. To her accepting nature, because she had seen it in her mind, it must be so. 

"I _saw_ you drinking it, Severus!" Welkin insisted again. "You promised me that you would drink it!"

To calm her concern and to forestall her from turning on the waterworks, Severus raised the glass of green tonic to his lips and drained it in several deep gulps. Regardless of his belief in the logic of it, she was right. He had promised her, and he would never willingly break an oath to her.

* * *

For the rest of their stay on the island, Welkin made an extra effort to ease Snape's anxiety over the future every way that she could think of. She fed him and fussed over him, massaged him and serenaded him, described their imagined bright future together with their someday-extended family in their someday-private home away from the daily annoyances that Hogwarts held for him. 

She even managed to master her fear of heights, to an extent, and forced herself to levitate the short distance from the hut to the ground without using the rope ladder. Severus reinforced her willingness to ignore her fear by rewarding her with the verbal praise that he had discovered that both she and Sullivan responded well to whenever they were proud of a new skill—often proud to an extent that was completely out of proportion to the level of the actual accomplishment. 

As always, Welkin joyfully shared her body and mind with him until even he was almost sated. By the third day, she was a mass of happy bruises, and he was in high hopes that she might have conceived, although he did not mention it. 

The irony of their situation was not lost on Severus. The last thing that he wanted was to part from Welkin, yet if she was pregnant, it would increase the probability that she must leave if their situation became too dangerous for her to stay with him. 

_On the other hand, if something unforeseen parts us with... finality, despite my many promises to her not to let it, at least she shall have Sullivan and the baby to comfort her._ His uncertainty about the right thing to do only increased the more that he thought about the conundrum, so he tried not to.

Between every other activity, Severus and Welkin calmly made their plans and discussed their options together. They were like generals planning a major military campaign. All contingencies had to be considered. No detail must be overlooked. Surprisingly, Welkin, who was notorious for her fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants and everything's-going-to-work-out-okay attitudes, agreed completely with much more meticulous Severus about this. Their very survival was at stake. In as far as was possible, nothing must be left to chance.

With a well-defined game plan, they both regained a bit of confidence and were feeling cocky until the third night when the shadows inevitably fell again.

* * *

"You have not had such a vivid dream in quite some time," Snape said. 

"You dreamed it too this time, didn't you? I could see it on your face when I described it," Welkin said. "Why did you have to wake me up before the end? I might have seen something useful to explain it better—something that might help us know what to avoid."

"You would have seen nothing. I awoke before you did and I saw only what you did before I woke you," he responded.

What little of the vision that Welkin had seen was disturbing enough, but she would have been willing to endure seeing much worse if it would somehow help keep Severus safe. 

Welkin had seen Severus lying in a heap on the dirty floor of a dismal, dark room. He was alone, and a pool of dark liquid that looked like water in the deep shadows surrounded him. _Was it water? Or was it... something more sinister?_

"Everything was so dark... I didn't recognize the room... did you?" Welkin asked him anxiously.

Snape drew her into his arms before he dared to reply. Yes, he had recognized the room. It was the place that James Potter had once warned him away from going. He felt Welkin trembling, even though the night air was warm. "It was... the Shrieking Shack," he whispered.

They hugged each other tightly in silence, each considering the ominous portent of the unwanted dream they had shared.

"Severus," Welkin said at last. "I want to go home." Even as she said it, she wondered where that was. Was it Hogwarts? Spinner's End? The Wizarding world? The Muggle world? Nowhere? _Where is our future together taking us?_

They had arrived together on this island paradise in light, hope and freedom—Albus Dumbledore's gift to them. They would leave in darkness, bound again by the chains of their own uncertain future.

* * *


	67. A Death in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus pressures Severus and Welkin to assure him they will stick with his plan. Welkin flees Hogwarts with Sully when Severus keeps his promise to kill Albus. They deliver Sully to Welkin's brother for safekeeping, and Severus must be the one to console his son at their parting.

* * *

At least once a month, the Snape family escaped Hogwarts and spent a relatively quiet weekend at Spinner's End. Welkin had reasoned that it was not good for the house to stay empty for so many months of the year when it was easy enough for them to make the trip quickly and efficiently now that Sully was older. 

Severus had no objections to the idea as long as Welkin did not expect him to bring along Persephone the goat every time. He agreed that the mini-vacations, as Welkin called them, afforded them more privacy as a family and gave him a little time away from the headaches that plagued him at Hogwarts. One of his main headaches was still Potter, and it was always a pleasure to forget about him for a while. 

Another inducement for Snape was that it also meant that he could sample Welkin's cooking skills more often. 

Sullivan gave another high-pitched squeal to demand his attention again, and Severus reminded himself that this was one of those comfortable, domestic weekends he was fortunate to be spending in the bosom of his family.

"Daddy, some!" Sully yelled as he generously held out the wooden spoon he was gnawing at for his father to sample. Sully was perched comfortably in Snape's lap with Severus steadying him with one hand around his stomach. Some pale yellowish globs of batter spattered the kitchen table and Severus as Sully shook the spoon insistently. "Daddy, some!"

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Welkin mimicked as she used a tin to finish cutting rounded shapes from the dough she had flattened out on top of a light sprinkling of flour. "All I ever hear is Daddy. What about Mama? Mama is the one slaving over a hot stove to make you teacakes you little monkey. Sometimes I wish you had your precious Daddy stuck up your little butt. Then maybe you'd get enough of him," she told Sully in a sweet voice to disguise her annoyance.

"I reserve that particular honor only for his mother, who has a much more accommodating and delightful arse," Snape told her, amused by her show of pique over Sullivan's favoring of him. "Like our son, I find that she can never quite get enough of me either."

Snape retrieved the spoon from Sully and licked it once to placate him. Sully grinned up at him and scrambled down off his lap. He toddled away into the sitting room on a mission.

"And what shall I lick for you, Mama?" Severus asked cheekily as Welkin returned from putting the teacakes into the oven. He pulled her into the lap that Sully had recently vacated.

"I'll show you later after Sully's asleep," she promised. "You've tasted it before, but it's still a pretty good vintage. In the meantime, how about a little snack? There's some bacon left over from breakfast. I could make us a sandwich."

"You are always thrusting food upon me, Wells. I have gained at least a stone since we began these weekend sojourns," he complained.

"It's all muscle, sweetie," she told him, "and it's in all the right places." She leaned in to kiss him as she ran her hand down his chest, over his stomach, and continued slowly towards her ultimate destination.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sully ran back to them carrying one of his favorite books. "Daddy! Read, Sully!"

"And you say you want more children," Welkin sighed. "At this rate, with this many interruptions, it's never gonna happen." 

She started to rise to give Sully his seat of honor back. "We'll try again later after story hour." 

"Mama, no!" Sully said as he tried to pull himself into her lap. 

"I guess he wants us both to have story hour. Nice of him to share you with me." Welkin laughed and pulled Sully up into a more comfortable position. She leaned her head back against Snape's chest and sighed. "I just hope it's not that damn _Annabelle the Awful Animagus_ again."

"I believe that we all have that particularly obnoxious tome committed to memory by now. The author should be Crucioed to within an inch of sanity for his crimes against the wizarding literary world in creating that ridiculous monstrosity," Snape blustered. "It is completely unrealistic, and the words do not rhyme properly."

"I think basic lack of realism is kind of the norm with children's literature, Sevvy," Welkin pointed out. "But you're right... the rhyming stinks. I have no idea why Sully likes it so much. Maybe Minerva has him brainwashed."

"Maaaagus!" Sully shouted happily, and Welkin cursed softly as Severus opened the slender book Sully had thrust into his hands to an animated picture of the equally happy but despised Annabelle. He began to read dutifully in a low growl. 

_Annabelle Ditwiller, who was only two,_  
 _Rarely would do what they asked her to._  
 _She would shilly-shally and preen and pout,_  
 _Till their faces were red, and they would shout,_  
 _Annabelle Ditwiller, don't you dare,_  
 _Turn yourself into a purple hare!_  
 _Mind your elders and eat your haggis,_  
 _You awful ickle Animagus..._

"Are you certain that you would not wish your mother to finish this abysmal epic for you, Sullivan?" Severus asked hopefully.

"No!" Sully said stubbornly. He shook his head firmly from side to side. "Daddy, read."

Welkin snorted and chuckled. "You know... I think I'm beginning to see some of the advantages of not being his favorite parent."

* * *

A cold rain arrived with the first day of May 1997. It brought with it a chill that rudely invaded the body of Albus Dumbledore, who felt it in every suddenly aching bone in his body. Every movement was an effort, and as the days of the month ticked away, he found himself calling on Snape more and more often for assistance in combating the relentless progress of his debilitating condition.

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said a bit more humbly than usual after one such occasion. "I could do this myself, but my lack of dexterity makes it a much more lengthy task than I have time for at present. I have another appointment quite soon," he explained. 

Snape finished massaging the thick blue paste into Dumbledore's withered hand and spoke a quiet incantation. It would only start to numb the area ten minutes after application, and Severus knew how painful the application process must be, but Albus endured the procedure with impressive stoicism except for one involuntary wince he gave towards the end. 

Snape did not acknowledge his thanks. He rose to place the tin of ointment carefully on a shelf behind his mentor and master of many years. 

"The pain should not return until the even. When you feel the joints of your fingers begin to stiffen, you may reapply at that time. If there is nothing else..." Snape nodded and made as if to leave.

"Please, Severus, be seated. I wish to speak with you before Harry... before my appointment arrives." Albus caught himself a little too late.

Snape pursed his lips in annoyance. _Potter... always his precious, sacrificial Potter,"_ he thought with disgust. He replaced the chair on the other side of the desk with a wave of his hand and reluctantly reseated himself.

Albus noted the look of disgust on Snape's face at the mention of Harry's name. After all this time, could he still blame the boy for the offenses of his father? Plainly, he could.

* * *

"Bed... now!" Snape growled as he swept through the door like a dark-eyed demon. A strained expression was on his face.

"Now? I thought we were going to lunch?" Welkin said with surprise as he threw her on their bed and pinned her to the mattress with his hard body. He pulled her panties down abruptly and began to finger her.

"Well, okay... okay... slow down just a little bit, Severus. I'm not complaining much about the change in plans," she assured him, "but what do I owe this unexpected pleasure to this time? Did Albus piss you off again?" she asked. "God bless him for that," she added with a good-natured laugh. 

The last time Severus had been this anxious for sex in the middle of the day was two weeks ago after an extended conference with Dumbledore about Harry Potter. That nearly always intensified his need for angry, explosive sex to help release his emotions and then reel them back to a manageable level of control. 

“Yeeessss,” he hissed impatiently. "Be quiet and spread yourself," he demanded. "I do not wish to hear anything issue from between your lips in the next minutes except moans and the appropriate profanities. Do you understand, my wife?"

"Yes, sir, husband, sir!" she answered him clearly. She was free to object and decline to cooperate when Severus was this abrupt with her, but she was not particularly interested in trying to make a point about her independence now.

She did not realize that he intended to use his wand on her until she felt the point of it against her clitoris and he spoke the incantation. Her clit and surrounding vulva twitched and tingled as if struck by a jolt of electricity. She felt a gush of slippery fluid forced out of her as the stimulation triggered an immediate strong orgasm. "Oh, fuck!" she shouted, writhing against the bed. He pressed her down on the bed with one hand on her stomach and applied his wand a second time to her sensitive fleshy nub, waiting for her first orgasm to subside.

"I can see how much you like that by the way you squirm about. Stop whimpering now and tell me what I already know... that you want more," he instructed. His eyes narrowed to mere slits and his deep voice was a little raspy. She knew without being able to see it that he must have unzipped his trousers and was fingering himself as he instructed her in what to say. 

"Yes, please... I want more, sir. Please, do it again. I want to come again," she told him. It was not role-play this time. It was the truth. She so much wanted to feel that lovely scorpion's sting again.

"Inside this time, I think," he growled. Snape moved the wand from its resting point and inserted the tip of it several inches inside her. He calmly spoke the incantation again. This time it felt as if her head was exploding when she came. She convulsed and arched off the bed despite his best efforts to pin her down. "Son-of-a-bitch!" she shouted. "Oh, nooooo... Stop! Stop!"

Snape withdrew the wand, at last a little hesitant with her. "You wish me to stop?"

Welkin grasped his erection quickly and began massaging it firmly. "Does this feel like I want you to stop?" she asked. "Don't be stupid."

"I instructed you that I did not wish you to speak," he repeated quietly.

"Am I supposed to take that seriously?" she asked. "You don't really know what you want from me half the time until I give it to you." As she was speaking, she moved the tip of his cock between her legs and inserted it inside herself. 

Snape had just leaned closer and smiled a bit lecherously at her when a sizzling sound came from the fireplace and the short golden flames became taller and burned with a bluer heart. 

"Welkin," a familiar voice issued from the midst of the usually soothing flames. "Please report to my office if you will... immediately."

“Drat that man! He is not satisfied with goading me with his infernal questions. Now, he wishes to harass you as well!" Snape exploded. He pulled away from her in frustration. 

"Goading you with questions? Why? About what?" Welkin asked. She sat up looking puzzled. 

"Though I have assured him many times, he wished to confirm my resolve to follow through with the things that I have pledged to do to bring his campaign against the Dark Lord to fruition," Snape said. 

"Why would he think you might do otherwise? You always keep your word," Welkin said.

"Perhaps he does not share your confidence in me!" Snape spat out the words bitterly. "Perhaps he thinks that I might have thought better of it... now that I have you and Sullivan to consider."

"Then, he doesn't really know you as well as he should, does he?" Welkin said quietly. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps I should prove him right and abandon this madness," he said. There was a small tremor in his voice. 

"But that's not who you are, is it?" Welkin responded.

"Albus is waiting," he replied, ignoring her question. 

"Let him wait a little. You're more important to me," Welkin said seriously. 

She grasped his hand, and he felt her love radiate through him like a warm caress.

* * *

"Instead of asking me to influence him on your behalf, you should be trying to help him get through this without either dying or destroying himself emotionally," Welkin told Dumbledore. "Can't you see how it's tearing him apart to have to do this to you? You're the one who brought me here to be a support to him, and that's exactly what I intend to do. I'm going to support him in whatever he has to do for you... or against you, if needs be."

"Against me? How can it be against me if I have requested it of him? Do not misunderstand me, Welkin. I want only the best outcome for you and Severus. However, he must not allow his own feelings and desires to interfere with the plan we have agreed upon, regardless of the personal consequences. It is imperative that he play his part to the end. So much hinges on this, and only he can do what must be done. You must be strong enough to support him in this, even if the outcome is not what we would hope," Dumbledore said.

"You sound like you're not expecting this plan of yours to work," Welkin told him. "Must you make it sound so grim?" 

"I do not mean it to sound grim, but I do mean to impress upon you how crucial it is that he stay the course. I think you already know that your influence on Severus and his actions is considerable. I ask only that you not use it rashly, emotionally, and selfishly.”

Albus watched as Welkin rubbed the back of her left hand and her wrist in an absentminded and nervous way. A thoughtful frown creased her brow, and then anger flashed across her expressive features.

"What if I don’t want to be as damn noble as Severus? What if all I want to be is completely selfish? I want a live husband—not a dead hero! All I really want is for Severus, Sully and me to be alive and happy together. We deserve that! What if I don’t give a flying fuck about anybody else?” Welkin asked defiantly.

“Then I would suppose that I have made a serious error in my estimation of your character as well as in my selection of you to be paired with Severus,” Albus replied. “But I do not think that I have. You do care about the fate of others more than you sometimes wish to admit. From the very beginning, I saw the toughness and the fighter in you as well as the capacity for great tenderness. You will have ample need of both of those qualities before the battle ends. I know that you will fight for Severus because you love him and wish to keep him alive... and in doing so, you will fight for us all. After he does what must be done, and I am no longer able to help him, I trust that you will. I trust you, and I trust Severus to do what is right.” 

Welkin saw Albus wince in pain as he leaned back in his chair and his obviously weakened condition distracted her from their argument. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, rising from her seat to move to him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Do you need me to call Severus?”

“No, I have no need of him... at present,” Albus said. It would have sounded cryptic except that Welkin knew exactly what he meant. He referred to the awful moment when he would ask Severus to end his life. There was no way around it. Not even she, the eternal optimist, could see one.

“He loves you, you know,” Welkin said, looking into those clear blue eyes. They were the eyes of a younger man looking back at her from the old wizard’s drawn face.

“I have come to realize over the years that Severus does indeed have a greater capacity for love than I had initially thought,” Albus agreed. “Although he might be loath to admit it publicly, I am pleased to know that he has more regard for me in that respect than I perhaps deserve. I count his ability to love as his greatest strength. So, you see... as I perceived in the beginning, you are each perfectly suited to the other in that respect.” 

“That's one thing you don’t need to convince me of,” Welkin said. “But you do need to convince me that you love Severus enough to fight for him too. Help him, Albus... please... while you still can.”

Albus drew a deep breath that sounded like a labored sigh. 

"There will always be help given at Hogwarts to those who ask," he finally responded. 

This time it really was a cryptic statement—one that Welkin knew by his expression that he would not expand on. It still gave her hope that Albus might be holding some cards close to his chest—cards that would be played when they were needed.

"Severus loves you," Welkin said again. "I love you too... and you'll always be a part of our family," she told him, no longer able to withhold that comfort from a dying man. 

"Always," he repeated. "Whether I deserve it or not," Albus said. He smiled at her through his pain. He had heard Severus use that word with quite dramatic effect once. _How can one word convey so much meaning?_ he marveled.

* * *

Panic and confusion reigned in the hallways of Hogwarts. Adults herded frightened students in their night garb back and forth as sporadic shouts of "Death Eaters!" and "Death Eaters in Hogwarts!" sounded. 

Welkin clutched Sully to herself and hurried up the stairs from the dungeons. At the top of the steps, she burst into a fast moving swirl of panicked bodies knowing how strange it must look that they were both fully dressed in traveling clothes at this hour of the night.

Severus had already fled, and she pushed her way through the entry towards the front doors with single-minded purpose. Out into the night and across the grass she sped. She hurried faster as a growing number of people gathered in shock around the crumpled body of Albus Dumbledore lying on the ground beneath the Astronomy Tower. 

Welkin ran past them quickly without stopping to look at the gut-wrenching sight. She headed straight for the Whomping Willow tree as Severus had instructed. When she reached it, relatively secure in the knowledge that no one would be watching, she used a branch to press into the knot at the foot of the tree to gain access to the secret passageway. 

Severus would be waiting for her in the Shrieking Shack, the place she now feared the most because of those awful dreams. _No use to worry about that now. You have to stick to the plan,_ she advised herself sternly. She slid down into the dark, musky earthen passageway with Sully as soon as the branches stopped waving at her menacingly. She lit the tip of her wand for light and continued running.

* * *

The knock on the door startled him a little, even though he had been expecting it. "Be very quiet," he cautioned to the fair-haired boy seated on the floor beside his chair. The boy paused with his blue crayon poised above the page of his coloring book and his eyes went wide, but he obediently said nothing. He merely sat and watched as his father stood and walked across the carpet lightly to peer into the peephole in the door. 

Exhaling a sound of relief, Glenn unlocked and threw open the hotel room door. He drew the couple inside, securing the door locks again.

"Wells! I was beginning to worry. It's been two days since we got to London, and I hadn't heard from you since you emailed me the day before that asking me to come. Thank God you're all alright."

"The authorities were a bit more difficult to elude than we anticipated," Severus admitted. "For that reason, it is imperative that we conclude our business here as quickly as possible." He had been looking about the room as he spoke, and his questioning gaze fell on the boy sitting cross-legged on the floor. 

"Marie thought it would be easier for Sully to leave with me if I brought Donovan along to keep him company on the trip," Glenn explained. 

Welkin set Sully down on his feet and knelt beside him. "Look, Sully. It's your cousin. You'll have Donnie to play with while you're away. Won't that be fun?" 

Donnie, who was several years older than Sully, got to his feet and approached them cautiously. He was keeping a suspicious eye on the tall, dark, scowling man with his Aunt Welkin. 

"Sully go way?" Sully asked Welkin. 

"Yes... only for a while... remember? We talked about it the night we left the castle. It's just for a while, not forever, and then we'll come get you again," Welkin told him. 

Sully gestured towards Severus. "Daddy come?"

"No, Sully. Daddy and Mama can't come with you. Uncle Glenn and Aunt Marie are going to take care of you for a while in America... just like Auntie Vi does when we're at home, except it'll be for a longer time. Snake will come with you, and you'll have a new friend to play with. Cousin Donnie will be there. You're going to have so much fun!" 

Welkin was trying to make it sound like a great fun-filled adventure and was almost succeeding. Sully was eyeing Cousin Donnie speculatively. 

"Daddy come?" Sully asked again.

Welkin tried to ignore the fact that he was not quite as insistent about having her along. "No, sweetie, I told you. Daddy and Mama have to stay here to help... take care of some things. We'll come to get you as soon as we can. Okay, Sully?"

Glenn tried to take Sully by the hand, and he pulled away sharply. "No! No! Daddy come! Daddy come!" He ran towards Severus and grasped him by the leg as big, glistening tears slid down his cheeks and he continued to wail. "Daddy come! Daddy... Daddy!"

Welkin looked at Severus helplessly, trying not to cry herself. Sully should not see them upset. It would only confuse and distress him more.

Severus bent and firmly but gently loosened Sully's grasp from his leg. He picked him up carefully and turned away from them with him, but not before Welkin saw the telltale twitch of the vein in his forehead that let her know how very difficult this was for him too. 

"Sullivan," Severus said to him quietly but firmly. "You must not cry. You must be brave. I will come for you when I am able—I promise you that—but you must be brave and endure what must be endured for your own protection, my son."

Sully snuffled loudly as Severus held him and continued to reassure him. Welkin stood by feeling utterly helpless. _He's just a baby. How can we expect him to understand?_ Welkin thought as her heart ached for him. 

Even if he could not quite understand, Severus's soothing voice seemed to do the trick after a time, and Sully calmed down enough that Severus felt able to set him down again.

To Welkin's relief, Donnie stepped forward decisively and took his cousin by the hand. "Come on, Sully. You can come and color with me. You can use any of my colors that you want. Would you like that?"

Surprisingly, Sully actually let himself be led away by the older boy, and he settled down on the floor of the hotel room with him.

"You understand that by shielding Sullivan you may be putting your own family in grave danger?" Snape asked Glenn bluntly. His dark eyes bored into Glenn's, searching for any hesitancy or lack of resolve on his part. 

"Sully is part of our own family... so is Wells... and so are you now." Glenn shrugged. "Marie and I both agreed that the best thing to do would be to pull up stakes and leave Dallas until all this mess blows over."

Severus looked surprised. _Are they really willing to go to such lengths to protect Sullivan?_ He was thankful if they were. Relinquishing Sullivan to them was harder for him than it might appear on the surface.

"That may not be enough if the Dark Lord decides to search for him," Snape told him.

"Don't you worry, Severus. If there's anything the Cooper clan knows how to do it's disappear. We've had a lot of practice. We've been doing it for centuries." Glenn grinned at him as Welkin hooked an affectionate arm around her brother's waist. "We'll keep in touch like you asked. If there's any trouble, you and Wells will be the first to know about it. We'll take good care of him for you."

"That's for certain," Welkin agreed. "He'll be safer with Glenn than with anyone, Severus. I wouldn't let him go if I didn't think so."

Severus looked at her oddly and there was a long pause before he spoke again. 

"If that is the case, then... you must go with them, my love," he told her softly. "I have decided that it is what I wish. You must be safe as well. I will not have you sacrifice yourself for my own selfish concerns."

Welkin detached herself from Glenn abruptly and returned to Severus's side. "No way am I leaving you. No... fucking... way," she said firmly. She wrapped her arm tightly around his. "And don't you try to convince me either," she told Glenn before he could align himself with Severus against her.

"I know better, Wells," he assured her. "You'd better just give it up, Sour Cat," he told Severus with a good-natured chuckle. "She always has been as hard-headed as a mule once she's made up her mind about something."

"Don't let Sully forget us, Glenn," Welkin begged wistfully.

"No... fucking... way," Glenn echoed her words.

* * *


	68. Falling Apart Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Welkin are in hiding following Dumbledore's death. Severus lies to Voldemort about Sullivan. Welkin mines Violet Murdoch for gossip that relates to places and people with whom she is no longer in direct contact.

* * *

Welkin walked in random patterns over the threadbare, dingy rug covering the dull wooden floor. Her mind paced endlessly in restless sympathy with her feet. It seemed as if she must have been alone in this depressing room for hours. 

_No need to worry,_ she told herself again. _He's done what the monster wanted done. There's no need to worry. He's just reporting to him, as usual._

Regardless of her constant pep talks to herself, she did worry, and she could not seem to stop. _Why is Voldemort keeping him so long if everything went the way we planned? What if he didn't believe Severus about Sully? What if he discovered that Albus had asked Severus to kill him?_

There was nothing here to distract her unsettled mind and churning emotions—no books or magazines, no music, no food or drink. If she was a smoker, at least she could calm herself a little that way, but she had never taken up that particular vice. She could not even step outside to breathe the fresh night air or look at the stars in silent meditation for fear of discovery. Trapped here without Severus, she was stuck in a loop wondering if anything awful was happening to him and praying that it had not. 

_He's okay. Nothing bad is happening to him. He always knows what he's doing. He's been outsmarting Voldemort for a long time. There's no reason to believe that anything has gone wrong._ She repeated the familiar mantra in her head, simultaneously willing it to be so. _Severus will—_

A crackle and a soft popping sound made her jump as Severus finally materialized in a corner of the dim room.

"Severus!" Welkin greeted him in relief. She rushed to cling to him. "I should kick your ass for leaving me here alone!" she said happily.

Snape smiled his crooked smile at her. "I am pleased that I am able to once again afford you that opportunity, my love. If I had a Galleon for each time that you have threatened to kick my arse since we met, I would be a wealthy man," he observed wryly. "However, since Voldemort did not specifically request your presence, I cannot pretend that I am disappointed that I was obliged to leave you behind. The less contact you have with him, the better."

"And if I had a Galleon for every time you've fucked me since we met, I'd be a thousand times wealthier than you," Welkin replied immediately. Her quick quip elicited another amused smile from Snape. 

"Is that an invitation?" he asked, prolonging the tease.

The natural ease of their banter with one another helped to dispel the tension of all but his worst moments of concern about their future survival and helped to fill the unanticipated void in him left by the departure of Sullivan. Who would have expected that he would miss the constant pestering by his son so much? 

"It's more of a bald statement of fact than an invitation, I'd say. Did Voldemort question you about Albus? Did he ask about Sully? Did he buy the cover story? What's in the bag?" Welkin fired off the questions in rapid sequence without giving him time to answer one.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Severus answered when she finally took a breath. "Our supper is in the bag," he said, thrusting it into her hands. "Although, I am afraid that it is a much more meager repast than we have been accustomed to at Hogwarts. I would also advise Scourgifying any surface in this rancid room which might come in contact with it before we allow ourselves to partake."

"Don't worry about it. Maybe starvation will make me angry enough to spit in Voldemort's eye the next time I get the chance. I'd say punch him in the nose, but the motherfucker doesn't have one," Welkin said. She changed the subject before Severus could lecture her on the inadvisability of pursuing either of those actions. 

"It might not look it, but I've already Scourgified every inch of this dump at least three times since you've been gone. Sit down," she urged. "You must be exhausted," she added, leading him to a thinly padded chair that looked like a Salvation Army reject. 

_Actually, a Salvation Army chair would be a step up from this pitiful thing,_ she thought crossly. Voldemort and his damned horcrux ring was the real reason that Albus was dead—that and Albus's boneheaded mistake in putting it on in the first place. But it was Severus unfairly carrying the guilt. They had not even been able to attend Dumbledore's funeral. She knew how hard that had been on Severus, although he acted as if it did not disturb him for her sake. 

Now, Voldemort was living in luxury at Malfoy Manor, while Severus, his supposed valued servant, was reduced to living in these conditions as an outcast and a fugitive. Every day she hated the monster more for what he had done to them all.

"I really tried to make things nicer for you here, but my charms didn't work that well. I guess I should have paid more attention to those glamour charms Professor Flitwick tried to teach me. They just didn't seem as important to me as dueling did at the time," Welkin admitted.

"It is of no consequence, Wells," Severus assured her calmly. "Tomorrow, we shall check on Sullivan's welfare with your brother, and then we shall make things more comfortable here for the both of us. We shall do it together."

"That would be wonderful," she said, smiling at him more cheerfully. "I know you miss Sully as much as I do. It seems strange for it to be so quiet now in the evenings." 

A spring from the dilapidated chair was digging into his posterior, but Snape barely felt it. News of Sullivan, and whether he was adjusting himself to his new situation, was uppermost in his mind. _When did I stop being uppermost in my own father's mind?_ he wondered a little bitterly before he brushed the self-pitying thought away. 

Welkin's wide smile heartened Severus, and he was more grateful for her mere presence than he ever could be for the material trappings of personal comfort. News of Sullivan would hearten him even more, he realized. He was a little astonished at this new insight about himself as a father.

"Tell me everything," Welkin said as she deposited the linen bag of food on a rickety table, opened the drawstring, and examined the contents while she listened expectantly for his report. She glanced back and forth between him and their modest supper as she arranged it on a plate she casually transfigured from pieces of a broken ceramic figurine of a swan she had found while cleaning the room earlier. 

_Maybe I should have used Transfiguration instead of attempting those glamour spells,_ she thought belatedly. Transfiguration was easier for her because Minerva was such an exacting teacher and expected so much of her. She was fond of Professor Flitwick, but she had found it a little too easy to get around him at times, and her tutelage in things that did not interest her in his class had suffered as a result.

"Despite my lengthy absence from you, there is comparatively little to tell," Severus reported. "As we expected, as the agent of Dumbledore's death, I have risen another notch in the Dark Lord's esteem and increased his level of trust in me. I believe that he has accepted my version of Sullivan's death as an unanticipated but negligible casualty during our flight from Hogwarts. Indeed, he almost seemed... relieved to hear of it," Snape told her hesitantly. 

"Relieved?" Welkin stopped what she was doing and returned to him, sinking to the floor to kneel at his feet. She placed her hands on his knees and looked up at him. "Relieved, how?" 

"Perhaps relieved is not the appropriate word. It was only a fleeting impression I had. He spent time assuring me that Sullivan’s death was for the best, as a child would only be a hindrance to my ability to execute his plans at this time. Although he did not state it bluntly, my impression was that he wished to... discourage any future plans we might have to replace Sullivan with another child."

Snape covered her hands with both of his. "I think, under the circumstances, that we must delay our wishes in that respect. We are fortunate that you have been unable to conceive in the months since you relented to me." 

"Well, at least the heartless bastard bought the lie that Sully is dead, I guess. But... why is he so interested in whether we have another child or not if he doesn't know about my ancestry?" Welkin asked thoughtfully. "It doesn't make sense. The cover story about Sully was only to keep him from looking for him in case he wanted to use him against us. He practically has the whole Malfoy family hostage now. He has them all under his thumb over his threats to Draco. I wouldn't even wish that on Lucius Malfoy, and you know how I feel about him."

"Indeed... we could not allow Sullivan to be used against us in such a fashion should the tide turn against us," Snape agreed. "The workings of Voldemort’s mind are difficult for even me to comprehend at times. I must always avoid being too obviously intrusive or inquisitive with him. At the moment, I am only concerned that we not target ourselves by doing anything which he might disapprove of," Snape said.

"Agreed... still... Albus said if Voldemort knew I was descended from Morgan le Fay that he might try to found a dynasty through me. There's no way he could possibly know that about me, is there? It would make me feel a lot better to know what the twisted logic is behind his interest in keeping us childless and that it has nothing to do with that. Is he as adamant about it with the other Death Eaters? Most of them have families and children. It doesn't make sense that he would single you out for no reason. Particularly when Albus said it's likely that Voldemort wants to expand his base of loyal Death Eaters by any means possible, including rape and forced breeding."

"Do not worry on that account. I am of the opinion that he knows nothing about you other than what we have told him. Whatever his perverted reasoning, we shall resume taking precautions to prevent you from conceiving. It is the most sensible course of action for us in our current situation. I see that clearly now. I should never have pressured you to relent to me. Sullivan is safe now, and if we are to be reunited with him, we cannot risk our own safety as well as the life of another child, based merely on my selfish whim."

"It's not a selfish whim, Severus," Welkin said more gently. "I never, ever thought it was selfish of you. I want another baby almost as much as you do. I just was worried about the timing in the beginning, and I agree with you now that we should wait. I only mean that it seems odd to me that it would concern Voldemort at all. It's strange because all of his other, more important plans seem about to be realized," Welkin said. "You would think he'd be focused exclusively on that instead of the results of our sex life," she observed. "I know you don't necessarily believe in my dreams... but, it makes no sense to me, and it worries me," she repeated, frowning at him.

Severus cupped a hand gently against the side of her face. "Do not expect reason from a madman, Wells," he told her.

* * *

Everything was falling apart for them in spite of them trying to hold it together. At least, it seemed that way to Welkin. Everything good in their lives not already destroyed by the harsh blow of being forced to engineer Albus Dumbledore's death was slowly being siphoned away. It was as if they were surrounded by Dementors trying to drain the remaining traces of their optimism. They were forever battling despair, and they clung to each other even more fiercely in response.

Sully's nanny, Violet Murdoch, had been heartbroken to learn of the child's death. Although she was strained and formal with Severus after Dumbledore's death, she did not call him a murderer or give Welkin unwanted advice that she should leave him. For Welkin's sake, Violet kept her thoughts to herself and treated Welkin just as she always had, in sympathy with her loss as a mother. 

Welkin had hated lying to Violet, but she agreed with Severus that it was necessary to maintain Sully's safety. No one else must know that he was still alive.

The concealing spells that Severus had cast over Violet's home when she became Sully's caregiver made it one of the few places that Severus approved Welkin visiting without him being with her. It was through Violet that Welkin learned that Minerva McGonagall had broken off her relationship with Aberforth Dumbledore. The budding unlikely romance was another victim of Albus's death. 

"Aberforth says she's changed. She misses and grieves for Albus. She's carrying a lot of anger over his death, and she resents Aberforth for not seeing his brother in the same light of perfection that she does. He said she used the excuse of her increased duties as temporary headmistress of Hogwarts to cut ties with him, but he sees through that," Violet told her.

"I don't think he does see it clearly—at least, not completely. I guess her loyalty to Albus and his memory really is stronger than her attachment to Aberforth," Welkin said, "but her devotion to Hogwarts trumps them both. It's a shame that she can't be installed as permanent headmistress. She loves that place so. She'd make a damn good protector for the school."

"I would think that she will be given the post. Why wouldn't you think so?" Violet asked. Her nostrils flared slightly as if smelling the fragrance of possible new gossip wafting among the vase of roses that decorated the cozy little parlor.

"No reason," Welkin lied quickly. "Maybe she will be given the post."

"She's a good woman, I'm sure, to have earned the regard of so fine a man as Aberforth Dumbledore, but I think she must also be a bit of a fool to toss him over like she has," Violet said with a distinct air of disapproval. 

"Oh, reeeeally? You do, do you? Do I detect a little personal interest in Aberforth?" Welkin grinned at her mischievously, thankful for the opportunity to draw attention away from the subject of who would be the next Hogwarts headmaster. Severus would verbally eviscerate her unmercifully if she let that particular Boggart out of the bag.

 _This keeping up your guard stuff is exhausting,_ Welkin conceded to herself. _Severus is a lot stronger than even he thinks he is, to be able to do it for years at a time. I'm getting better at it, but I'll never be as good at it as he is._

The older woman blushed furiously at Welkin's question about Aberforth. She put down her teacup and suddenly became tremendously interested in rearranging the remaining biscuits on their delicate, floral-patterned plate.

"Not at all... not at all," Violet protested. "Don't even think such a thing at my age!"

"You're only in your fifties. Besides... what's your age got to do with it? Or his? You know what they say... just because there's snow on the rooftop, it doesn't mean there isn't still fire in the furnace," Welkin advised. 

"Codswallop! It's been too long since my Angus passed away—bless his soul—for me to be thinking about poking at any fires!" Violet smoothed a lock of hair away from her face self-consciously, tucking it primly behind her ear.

Welkin laughed, enjoying Violet's blushing reaction to her teasing. She was definitely on to something. Violet had been lonely with her children grown and out of the house. She was used to having someone to take care of. _She might be an even better choice for Aberforth,_ Welkin considered.

"So... how exactly have you come to be having these deep conversations with Aberforth Dumbledore about his love-life if there's no 'poking' going on?" Welkin asked casually but directly. She leaned back in her chair comfortably, balancing her delicate teacup in the palm of her hand like it was a saucer.

"It's nothing improper, if that's what you're thinking. He's been coming to visit Persephone is all, to bring her little treats and the like, and we naturally got to talking about his other goats. When I was a lass, we had lots of chickens and cows, pigs and goats, and I've always been fond of them. And then, he seemed to need someone to confide in about other things, and it was only natural that we'd develop a bit of a friendship."

Welkin's toothy grin seemed to fluster her again.

"There's been no 'poking' with Aberforth or anyone else! In my day, we learned to have a little self-restraint concerning such things," Violet informed her. "I suppose that's something you and your mister can't understand and think is a bit prudish on my part, seeing as how you're both as randy as all of the billy goats in Aberforth's stable put together. Well, it might be prudish of me, but it's just the way I was brought up. For me, having a little taste is fine, but there's no sampling certain goods until a purchase is made," Violet concluded.

"At last... the truth is revealed. You think Severus and I are both really nothing but a couple of perverted sex maniacs.” Welkin narrowed her eyes and tried to look stern and insulted.

“Oh, merciful heavens, no! That’s not what I meant at all! Please, don’t tell him that! I meant no disrespect to you or to Professor Snape,” Violet pleaded, her face now as scarlet as Red Riding Hood’s cloak. 

Welkin burst out laughing. “I was just teasing. I know you didn’t mean it that way. It’s your life, Violet, and you've got the right to live it by your own rules as long as you're not interfering with anybody else. I'd be the last person to ever try to tell you differently," Welkin said. “If you want to just stay friends with Aberforth, more power to you.”

Welkin reached to grab another biscuit from the plate. "Do you mind if I take a few of these with me for Severus when I leave?" she asked. “He really likes these with the nuts in them.” 

She laughed again in a good-humored way as she pictured the image Violet had conjured up in her mind. She could easily see herself and Severus as a couple of horny, cantankerous goats. She really could not argue with that assessment at all. 

_Maybe that’s the happy thought I should use the next time I have to conjure up my Patronus,_ she considered.

* * *


	69. Return to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Welkin return to Hogwarts when he is named headmaster. It is not a pleasant homecoming for either of them. Voldemort wants Amycus Carrow to keep tabs on Welkin and congratulates himself as his plans seem to be unfolding on target in most ways. Severus demonstrates a unique sexual skill to amuse Welkin.

* * *

Welkin comforted Snape following the traumatic death of Charity Burbage when Voldemort made a gruesome example of her to anyone who might express an opposing viewpoint concerning the inferiority of Muggles. Welkin calmed Snape's emotional agitation when George Weasley was permanently maimed by an errant blast from his wand as members of the Order were moving Harry Potter to safety. She reassured him and supported him every step of the way during the long months whenever doubts crept into the back of his mind and threatened to convince him that he did not have what it took to see this mission though. Her steadfast belief in him never faltered. 

_And this is her reward_ , he thought bitterly. _To walk behind me, acting the part of my chattel, and to be subject to the hatred they dare not direct at me in the months to come. She should be walking ahead of me._

That he could only reward the woman he loved for her love and support by being obliged to drag her down to this lowly, deplorable public image was the most unbearable thing of all to Severus Snape. He loathed being the reason for Welkin's degradation in the eyes of most in the Wizarding world. Welkin herself did not seem to take notice of her diminished dignity in the eyes of others. If she did, she did not voice it. She spoke to him only of his dignity and worth, and she praised his every action as noble and selfless almost to a ridiculous degree. Now, she played her new role of fake subservience better than he had expected that she could. Even now, marching behind him, her mind reached out to him and lightly touched and entwined with his in encouragement as they walked, her gait a little faster to keep up with his longer masculine stride.

His nervousness hidden from all but Welkin, Snape stalked briskly up the broad stone steps to Hogwarts with his robes billowing about him dramatically. He marched through the massive wooden doorway, which was standing open in anticipation, and through the high-ceilinged, dimly lit front hall with Welkin following him closely but silently. Despite his inner turmoil, his face held its familiar impassive, stony, unreadable expression. The sharp clicking of the heels of their shoes reverberated in the cavernous entry as they marched back into the breach—back into the place they had both fled in disgrace months ago. They crossed the short distance where an already mutinous-looking group of witches and wizards stood assembled, and they halted. 

Snape met the mixture of nervous, frightened, and openly hostile faces from the assembled staff members with a look of well-practiced benign disregard. The silence stretched, and as it became apparent that even the most insincere greeting or acknowledgment of his new position as headmaster was not forthcoming, he broke the simmering, hostile silence himself.

“As this year’s students are due to return to Hogwarts tomorrow, I see no reason to prolong this assemblage when you clearly all have duties to attend to. I shall be—”

“When what _remains_ of our students return tomorrow, you mean,” Minerva McGonagall interrupted rudely to correct him. “Those who haven’t been forced to flee with their parents, or whose parents have chosen not to send them back to Hogwarts this term for their own safety.”

Snape heard, but did not initially respond to, the fleeting ripple of murmured approval that went through the others when Minerva made her bold, challenging statement. His cold, glittering eyes swept over them slowly, as if he suddenly had all of the time in the world, and he was considering his options with each of them. 

He took one step forward and leveled his gaze on Minerva at last. “Truancy and enrollment matters will no longer be among your duties here at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall. I can assure you that the figures are quite adequate to keep you all well employed at present. I am sure that the proper efforts will be made by the Ministry to... engage... those parents who are reluctant to avail their children of the opportunity to continue their education at Hogwarts.”

“The Ministry? My faith in the Ministry’s judgment about certain things has been shaken considerably recently,” Minerva responded. Her eyes blazed at him hotly with barely suppressed fire. “Albus Dumbledore would _never_ let the Ministry dictate our rules and traditions or anything else that happens at Hogwarts, if he could help it!”

Behind him and slightly to his left, he heard Welkin draw a quick intact of breath, but otherwise she remained silent, just as they had agreed. 

Severus had expected Minerva to make a direct challenge to his appointment by the Ministry. He was prepared.

“I shall remind you, Professor McGonagall, that the former headmaster is dead,” Snape said in a soft, quiet voice that was also somehow dripping with menace. “ Dead and buried... I would suggest that you occupy yourself less with maintaining the traditions of the previous headmaster and more with the reason you are currently employed. You are charged to instruct our youth and provide an encouraging and... _safe_ environment for their lessons. Nothing more or less than that is either required... or expected of you.” 

Snape stepped back again and aligned himself physically with Welkin for the first time. Her subjugation to him was amply illustrated to them all, he felt, by her continued silence. It was not a quality she had been known for when they were previously at Hogwarts. Neither would she have ever walked behind him.

“I would also strongly suggest that the remainder of the staff take those duties to heart as well... should you wish to remain employed here at Hogwarts in the future," he added pointedly. 

He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his back even more. "I shall be making an announcement of some new appointments and reassignments at the opening feast. Should anyone feel the need to abandon their duties and their concerns for the children of Hogwarts to others, you must advise me of your decision before tomorrow morning and I will assign a replacement. You are all dismissed at present,” Snape concluded crisply. His posture shifted again, and he folded his arms across his upper abdomen with a finality that did not invite further remarks or discussion.

As they all filed out of the hall, some more reluctantly than others, Minerva, her lips white with suppressed anger, turned to give one final resentful look at Snape and Welkin before stalking up the marble stairway.

* * *

Yaxley was not sure exactly why Amycus Carrow was being given the job of watching Snape's wife, when Voldemort had apparently discounted all of the warnings about her that Yaxley had brought him in the past. In his opinion, Lord Voldemort would have been better served keeping a closer eye on Snape himself instead of his perpetually befuddled wife. However, it was not wise to question Voldemort about these things. He was more than prone to regard such inquisitiveness as insubordination, and Yaxley was smarter than that.

"Make it clear to him that he is to report any unusual movements she makes, and to make certain that she remains at Hogwarts where I will have access to her. I do not want her disappearing suddenly and making it necessary to track her new location," Voldemort instructed. 

"Of course, my lord. He will make sure she stays at Hogwarts. I'll make certain he understands the consequences." The gravelly voiced man tried not to speculate mentally on why the Dark Lord was so intent on maintaining such scrutiny on Snape's wife. Thinking such things in his presence was as dangerous as voicing them. It was tantamount to questioning Voldemort aloud, since he could read their thoughts with alarming accuracy. 

"No physical harm is to be visited upon her," Voldemort continued. "Neither by magic nor by physical force. If he damages her in any way, he will not live long enough to regret it," Voldemort said with as little concern as if he were announcing it was time for tea. "Neither he nor his sister," Voldemort added.

The dour-faced man did not flinch externally, but he had no doubt that Voldemort would make good on his threat. Perhaps he would even extend it to include others in the Carrow family, despite their years of loyalty in his service. No one was immune to the Dark Lord's caprices. Yaxley had survived and risen through the ranks by understanding that and acting on it.

"Of course, my lord. No harm will come to her," he said again, sounding as confident as he always did.

Voldemort dismissed Yaxley and turned away to the window, looking out over the growing desolation of the grounds of Malfoy Manor with as close of an approximation of pleasure as he could feel in his shriveled, deadened heart. Despoiling the flora of the usually lush grounds with his dark magic was just one more way of thrusting a thorn into Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's mercenary, status-seeking hearts. He had made sure of Lucius's release from Azkaban, but not as a reward. He had made that more than clear to them by his subsequent behavior towards Lucius. He had done it because it pleased him to be seen as a granter of mercy to his followers, while giving him the daily access to make an example of Lucius and his family. Failure could not be tolerated among his troops. Lucius had failed, and he and his family would pay the inevitable price. However, not before he had been humiliated and suffered sufficiently. 

His thin, reptilian lips stretched into a grimace of a smile. Everything was going well. Dumbledore was dead and he possessed the Elder Wand, although its power level was disappointing, and that puzzled him. No matter. He would figure it out soon and correct it. 

He had assured his own immortality with his horcruxes. His power was crushing the Ministry and its tendrils were entwining their way through the British Wizarding world as his first step towards world domination. Through Snape, he exerted his influence at Hogwarts, and he could therefore influence or intimidate all of those impressionable young minds to join his cause. Hogwarts would supply the magical troops for his reign for generations to come. The woman whose body and magical lineage would provide him with his dynasty and even more followers was secure at Hogwarts. Only one thing continued to elude him, and that was Harry Potter. Nevertheless, he could not hide forever. Soon there would be no one or nothing left to shield him and his protectors, and the final impediment to his new regime would be dead. With Potter's death, all of the foolish false hopes that rallied others around the Chosen One would be destroyed. 

_All resistance will be crushed. Whatever Muggles I allow to live following the Great Purge will take their rightful place as our inferiors in bondage to their betters, and I, Lord Voldemort, will be known for what I truly am... the mightiest wizard of all time._

* * *

"Why did they have to get rid of our things, Severus?" Welkin asked. "They could have just put them into storage. Our beautiful marriage bed is gone... and Sully's cradle. I know they think we're scum, but what right did they have to get rid of Sully's things?"

"It is of no consequence, my love," Snape assured her. He pulled her against him comfortingly in the new, more spacious bed he had had moved into the headmaster's living quarters for them. "Do not think on it. We still have Sullivan, and everything else can be replaced."

"I know... I know. We still have Sully... even if everybody thinks that we don't." She pursed her lips in a pout, remembering another of this week's many disappointments. "Minerva blames me for Sully's death," she complained, no longer able to hold in her feelings about it.

"Has she said that to you?" Snape asked in genuine surprise. He would not have thought that Minerva, of all people, would be so cruel to Welkin about the loss of a child.

"No... not exactly... but she won't talk to me, and the way she looks at me, I just know what she's thinking. That if I'd stayed at Hogwarts that night that Sully wouldn't have died."

"He did not die," Snape reiterated unnecessarily. "If anything, his life was saved by hiding him away."

"I know that. But it doesn't make it any easier that everybody else thinks he died, and I can't tell them any differently. And not a one of those sanctimonious assholes have even offered their condolences on his death!"

"I am... sorry," Snape told her, not knowing what else to say. He sounded so contrite when he said it, that it broke Welkin out of her own private pity party over her litany of real and imagined insults. 

"It's not your fault," she said quickly. "I'm just pissed off at them all and wallowing in it a little. I don't give a damn what they think. I'll be okay... really. Your week had to be much worse than mine. How's it going for you?"

"The Carrows were not popular appointments, suffice it to say," Snape said wryly. "I was inundated with discreet but adamant protests against them."

"Can't say that I blame them for that. Those two are creepy. Creepy and mean. I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't some incest going on with that pair too. They're both so awful that nobody else could possibly want to fuck either one of them," Welkin concluded. "But if the teachers had half a brain they'd know you don't really have much choice about appointing them. They just want to have it both ways. They want to think you're a Voldemort puppet and hate you for that, but they also want to be able to _oh-so-virtuously_ blame you for the decisions you're forced to make as headmaster—as if you had a fucking choice!" She snorted with derision. "What a bunch of hypocrites! And if you say it is of _no consequence_ , I swear I'm gonna smack you a good one, since you won't let me smack any of them," she warned.

"At last... something to look forward to in this untenable situation," Snape jested, quirking an eyebrow at her as he suddenly grasped her slender-boned wrist. 

Welkin thought about mentioning to Severus her impression that Amycus Carrow was shadowing her around the castle, but decided against it. Perhaps she had been imagining it. Maybe it was mere coincidence that he seemed to appear around any number of dark corners in the corridors. Amycus skulked around spying on everyone looking for an excuse to 'discipline' them. She would tell Severus when she had more to base it on than her own active imagination. 

"Don't you arch that sexy eyebrow at me, mister. Not unless you're prepared to follow through on it. I don't think either one of us could take one more disappointment this week," she warned.

Encouraged by her flirtation, Snape pressed her down in the bed firmly and positioned himself to stare into her eyes. Her dark pupils expanded immediately in the field of deep green, and her compressed lips softened, slackened and parted in anticipation. 

Her round-hipped, womanly form and the full breasts that trembled beneath him now gave Welkin the appearance of a mythological fertility goddess to Severus. She was goddess of his home and hearth—goddess of his love and licentiousness—goddess of his light and his dark and yearning heart. She was his personal force of nature. He would have taken poison from her hand if she commanded it. 

"Will you do your trick for me again before we make love?" Welkin grinned up at him expectantly.

Severus felt a brief glow of victory that she more often referred to it now as making love, instead of her accustomed use of the more vulgar word for it. 

"It is not a 'trick', Welkin," he corrected. He rolled away and sat upright in the bed. He leaned against the headboard and clasped his hands behind his head casually. "Tricks are what fake Muggle magicians do. What I do is a miraculous talent."

He could tell she had a sharp, deflating comeback on the tip of her tantalizing tongue, but she unexpectedly reined it in. 

"I'll say it is. I've never seen anything like it. So... will you do it for me?"

Snape hesitated just long enough to make it interesting for her. "Very well," he conceded at last. "But only the one time. I have other things planned for you this evening."

Welkin squirmed off her pillow and wriggled around like an overly excited puppy until she had planted herself on her knees by his thighs. She propped her head up with her chin against the knuckles of her closed fists and stared with rapt concentration at the exact spot where his crotch should be beneath his nightshirt. 

"Okay, I'm ready!" she announced, and gave an involuntary, apparently unconscious wiggle of her ass.

"If you do not stop twitching your arse in that provocative manner, I cannot be expected to assure that the source of this exhibition will be completely of my own doing," Snape warned. 

"Sorry," she said. She grabbed one of the light blankets from the foot of the bed and draped it over her rear before making herself comfortable again. "Is that better?" she asked.

"Somewhat. You may begin counting, " he instructed.

"Okay... Ten... nine..." Snape's nightshirt quivered slightly. "Eight... seven..." Beneath the grey fabric there was one small jerking motion, and then another. "Six... five..." The fabric began to rise rapidly. "Four... three..." The fabric popped up on cue, forming a stiff tent. Severus smirked at her as she widened her eyes in wonder. 

"That's amazing. I've never seen anybody with as much concentration and control over their body as that," Welkin said. "I've never known another man who could make it—" 

Welkin stopped abruptly as she realized what she was about to say. She looked up at Severus anxiously just in time to see his smirk change into a distinct frown.

"And you _never shall_ see another man perform such 'tricks'," he growled. "Only _me_." He grasped her by the arms and pulled her against him roughly. The darkness in the depths of his eyes swirled.

"There'll never be anyone else I want a performance from," Welkin crooned soothingly to him. "I have a permanent box seat to the Theatre of Severus. Admission: all my love forever."

The swirling darkness inside him calmed, and Severus buried his face against one of her gently sloping shoulders as he tugged down the fabric of her chemise to uncover her to his worshipful sight. The delicate bones of her wrists and ankles and her innocent face with its mercurial, childlike expressions gave her a softer, more vulnerable look that appealed to him as much as her woman's body. At times, Severus enjoyed thinking of her that way. She was a sweet child who required his protection and indulgence. He knew it was not exactly true, but it pleased him to think so. Welkin could be fiercer than most when aroused. She was a rare and precious creature like Fawkes the phoenix. Like Fawkes, Welkin could fend for herself, if need be. 

"Fly with me, my love," he requested, as the image he had conjured of the phoenix and his need for her overwhelmed him. He savored the look of wanton need she gave him in return before burying his face in the softness of her exposed breasts. 

"Now _that's_ the kind of flight I can handle," Welkin laughed. 

She buried her own face against the side of his neck and began to nibble. He trembled against her and sighed as the blood coursed through him and stiffened his cock in the more normal and infinitely more pleasurable way.

* * *

"I always did like this office," Welkin said. She wandered around the room looking at and toying with what things of Albus's still remained there. "I wonder what happened to Fawkes. I hope Fawkes is okay."

"I do not think you have to worry about the phoenix," Snape told her. "Fawkes is more than able to fend for himself, I expect." He rose from the headmaster's chair and followed her as she stopped flitting about and came to rest in front of Albus's portrait. The ornate frame appeared to be empty.

"Where is he, I wonder?" she asked. She knew it was not really Albus, but it was also more than a mere portrait. Albus's image could be anywhere in Hogwarts where there was a painting. Maybe even other places as long as there was the refuge of a frame for him. Would his image be more powerful than the others who slumbered among the many portraits in this office? He had been an immensely powerful wizard in life. What would make anyone think that he would not be powerful in death as well? 

Snape stood behind her as she stared into the empty frame, trying to see if she could spot Albus sitting in the shadows in the background of the picture. "It would be like him, wouldn't it, to be watching us from the shadows? He was always doing that." 

Welkin felt Snape slip an arm around her and pull her back against himself. 

"Albus the voyeur?" he asked gently. He sounded a little unsure whether she was in the mood to be teased about it. 

He need not have worried. Welkin was always in the mood for almost anything where he was concerned. 

Welkin brought her hand up and stroked it across the thin, strong arm that was cradling her possessively. She smiled to herself and let her hand come to rest against the top of his hand gently.

"No... Albus the Protector, I think," she said. "I prefer Albus the Protector."

* * *


End file.
